#it was fine when it was like one or two or three or four of them being swifties but suddenly its like everywhere i go shes like EVERYWHERE😭

[oldermenfucker]

Love your work!!! Fic or headcannon request where Jack's wife/girlfriend has insomnia and just shows up with a plate of cookies or a fully cooked meal in the middle of his shift at least once a week

Aaaa thank you so much lovey!!!! I’m so glad you like my work🥹🥹🥹 THANK YOU for sending this really cute request!!!! Lets goooooo I hope you like this💕✨

It is another sleepless night; you go to bed a few hours after Jack left for his shift at The Pitt but then wake up around two in the morning.

You try to go back to sleep, you really do, but just like always, it is as if there is no trace of drowsiness in you while you are exhausted.

You toss and turn in the bed, burying your face into Jack’s pillow in hopes of his scent calming your racing mind and lull you into a dreamless sleep.

Wrong. It doesn’t work.

You drape his blanket on yourself, pulling it up to your chin as you cuddle his pillow, humming in delight as the warmth of it seeps into your body and eyes.

Wrong. Again. You don’t fall asleep, and the ticking of the clock is not helping either. So with a very tired groan, you kick the blanket off and sit up on the bed.

This isn’t something new to you. You experience this a few times a week when you don’t take the pills, but tonight? You did take them and they still didn’t work.

Your mind wanders to Jack; your poor boyfriend having to work with barely sleeping five hours, you just know he must be hungry and tired.

You halt in your step when you stand up to go the bathroom, head striking by a pretty great idea.

After your quick trip to the bathroom, you bolt to the kitchen, shuffling through the cupboards to find the ingredients for Jack’s favorite cookie.

You don’t know when you start and when you finish, all you can remember is that you are walking to your car at four in the morning with three bags filled with stored cookies and sticky notes on each lid.

The car ride is uneventful; the roads are clear and streets are quiet, and you get to your destination in ten minutes.

As soon as you step inside the triage, a nurse you have met before spots you and waves at you, rushing to help you with the bags.

You duck your head as she helps you through the doors, trying to stay invisible when a man shouts ‘Why is this woman going there—‘

“Look who’s here!” Parker grins, nudging Shen with her elbow before she meets you halfway, pulling you into a quick hug, “What are you doing here? Are you hurt? Y’know Jack’s gonna flip out if he—“

“I’m totally fine, I just… couldn’t sleep and decided to be useful!” You bring one of the bags you are holding up, “Cookies for all! Chocolate chip with a sprinkle of sea salt.”

“If he doesn’t marry you immediately, I will—“

“Finish that sentence and you’ll find a tube down your throat.”

There he is, your protective secretly jealous old man. You smile at him when turns his head to look at you, making his way towards you to cradle your head to his chest.

“Honey, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jack cups your face in his hands, his brows furrowed as he searches your face for any sign of bruises or swelling.

“Jack, I’m fine! I swear!” You smile, resting your hands on his, “Couldn’t sleep so I brought your favorite cookie!”

“At four A.M.? Seriously?” And it finally dawns on him that the medicine didn’t work tonight, “I need to make you a very strict sleep schedule. Can’t have you running around the city with bags of cookies for anyone but me.”

“Don’t worry, I brought something super special just for you, baby,” you lean up to kiss his cheek, reaching for the bag on the Nurse’s station, shuffling through the plates before you pull his out, “Brownies for the most handsome doctor of The Pitt.”

“Sugar coating it won’t make me go easy on you,” he glares at you playfully, but reaches and opens the lid, taking a bite from the brownie before moaning and shaking his head, “You know what? It probably will make me go easy on you— these are fucking delicious.”

“Glad you like it,” you beam at him and he just can’t resist it— he leans down, pressing his chocolate-covered lips to yours, totally forgetting the entire floor is watching the two of you.

“Didn’t peg you for a PDA type of guy, handsome,” you tease him, wiping his mouth with a napkin you pull out from your bag, “Easy, this has to keep you fed until you come back home.”

“Fine, but—“ he points his finger at you, his face twisting in worry before he shakes his head, “Call me when you can’t sleep. Don’t come running into the ER, okay?”

You do exactly what he told you not to do.

Next time, you can’t even get a blink of sleep. So what better way to spend another four hours up to make full trays of Fettuccine Alfredo for your favorite night owls?

“Where do you think you are going?”

This time, Jack spots you instantly in the ER before you can sneak out, making you groan and turn around, only to be met with your very scowling boyfriend who has his hands on his hips, ready to scold you.

“Home?” You reply sheepishly, biting your lip when he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s one in the fucking morning,” he says, his tone laced with worry and affection as he crosses the floor to reach you, his hand flying to your lips to pull you closer, “I told you what to do, what pills to take, but I bet you forgot.”

“I brought Pasta?” You try to dodge the question, and you sigh in relief when Jack just rolls his eyes affectionately before he kisses your forehead and leads you to the Central, already finding Shen and Ellis elbow deep inside one of the plates.

“Maybe we should hire her because goddamn-“As soon as Ellis wants to bring a fork to her mouth a trauma barges inside the floor, making her groan and glare at Shen who shrugs and doesn’t stand up from his seat, “Fuck you, man.”

“I’m your attending, now go save that poor guy while I finish my dinner.”

“Stop eating and go supervise the case,” Jack snatches Shen’s fork from his hand and pulls him up, “Go.”

You watch as the young doctor follows Ellis into the room with a loud whine, and Jack takes this chance to help you on the chair, handing you a clean fork before he sits down next to you as well.

“This tastes like heaven,” he whispers, swallowing a mouthful of the pasta while you watch him. He frowns when he notices you not eating anything, twisting his fork as he gathers a large bite of the fettuccine before he brings it to your lips, “Open up, sweetheart.”

“I’m not hu—mmf,” your eyes go wide when he pushes the fork past your lips, smirking when he watches you finally chew on the meal you have cooked.

“This is the first dinner we’re having together after a few weeks, enjoy it.”

“You’re not gonna scold me for not sleeping?” You pull your chair closer to his, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Nope,” he kisses your head after he wipes his mouth with a napkin, “Listen, if it helps, you can sleep with me in the mornings, like you’re doing night shifts.”

“Yeah, I think I can fall asleep if you’re with me.”

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Two

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, so much fluff, strong language

Notes — This is my favourite chapter so far. Out of all 32. It's also a long one, so grab a snack and send me your thoughts!

2023 (Belgium — Japan)

The light in Nice always felt soft, like it was passing through a filter of sea salt and old stone. The sun hadn't reached its full height yet, and the market was still in that gentle hum of mid-morning, not too busy, not too still. Just alive enough.

Lando walked half a step behind Amelia, letting her pace guide them through the maze of stalls and awnings. She wasn't a talker in the mornings, not really, and that suited him just fine.

She stopped at the long flower stand, fingers trailing over a bunch of pale yellow ranunculus. He didn't say anything, just watched her examine the petals with her usual precise sort of softness. Then, after a pause, she looked back at him and tilted her head slightly.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a crumpled bill, handed it to the vendor without a word. Amelia's lips curved just a bit.

Two stalls later, she passed him a tiny basket of sliced figs drizzled in honey. He didn't ask where she'd gotten it or how much it cost. He just took it and pressed a kiss to her temple, because of course she would know he was hungry before he even had a chance to say anything.

They moved like that; in orbit, but in sync.

At one point, a vendor selling lavender soap called out to them in a thick accent, something about being a "cute young couple." Lando smiled, striking up a polite conversational exchange. Amelia didn't say anything. After they passed the stall, she reached down and laced her fingers through his, without looking.

She didn't do that often — didn't like to be the one to initiate physical contact, especially in public.

He felt it in his heart every time she did.

They stopped near a stall selling fresh olive bread, and Amelia pulled out her phone, tapping something into her notes app. Lando leaned over.

"What's that?" he asked, voice low and warm.

"List of food I like," she murmured. "Reminding myself."

He nodded. She paused, then handed him the phone wordlessly. There were twenty-seven bullet points. He scrolled through them.

"You liked the brown seeded rolls yesterday too. With the chilli jam," he said. "I'll add that."

She didn't reply. Just looked at him for a long second, then blinked, slow and deliberate. That was the silent Amelia version of I love you — subtle, but unmistakable.

They wandered on.

At the end of the market, they sat at a chipped café table and shared a small tart filled with goat cheese and roasted tomato. Amelia leaned into his side without thinking, her head resting on his shoulder as she chewed, still watching the crowds drift by.

Lando let his hand fall into her lap and tangle gently in the fabric of her skirt. Hers moved to rest over his without needing to look.

They didn't speak much.

And that was the thing with them. It wasn't just that they loved each other — it was that they understood how the other one loved. In gestures. In silence. In half-smiles and shared fruit and shoulders leaned into shoulders in beautiful, morning-sleepy cities.

—

The MTC sim room was cool and quiet, lit by the blue glow of monitors and the soft hum of tech. Amelia stood with her arms folded, watching the data stream from Oscar's run, her expression intensely focused. She didn't speak until the run ended and the rig slowed to stillness.

"Turn 7's still sloppy," she said bluntly.

Oscar pulled off the headset and blinked at her. "Define 'sloppy.'"

"Four degrees too aggressive on throttle reapplication. You're losing rotation mid-corner, which is fine when tyre life doesn't matter, but it will in Spa." She passed him a tablet with the graph already up. "Look."

Oscar studied it. "You memorise this?"

"I don't memorise, per se. I just... know it." She paused. "I'm pattern-oriented. You keep breaking the pattern. It's very irritating."

Lando, seated cross-legged on the floor beside the second sim rig, laughed. "She's not wrong. You are driving like a goat on ice in that sector."

Oscar shot him a look. "You crashed in Miami trying to out-brake a Williams."

"Shut up, mate." Lando stood, brushing imaginary dust off his joggers. "Alright, my turn. Fix me, genius wife."

Amelia arched a brow. "You want feedback?"

"I'm asking for it, yeah."

"Good luck," Oscar muttered, climbing off the rig.

They traded places, and Amelia slid the headset onto Lando with surprising gentleness, muttering something under her breath that only he could hear. Whatever it was made him grin.

Lando's sim run was cleaner, smoother — but not perfect. He clipped a curb on Lap 3, losing the rear slightly. Amelia exhaled loudly through her nose.

"You always hit that curb," she said. "Every year. Just lift earlier."

"I'm trying. The curb keeps coming at me," he groaned, throwing her a grin through the screen.

"Don't be stupid," she shot back.

Oscar snorted. "She's brutal today."

"She's always brutal." Lando sighed. "But it's helpful, so..." he shrugged.

Eventually his run ended. Amelia crossed to his console and tapped a few notes in; suggested setup tweaks, minor aero preferences. Lando watched her hands work.

"You're so smart, baby. How do you do it, hm?"

She didn't look up. "I watch. I notice things. I write them down. Easy"

He smiled. "You're like a high-functioning racetrack AI."

Oscar added dryly, "That occasionally hits things when she's angry."

"That too," Lando agreed, with a lopsided smirk.

Amelia looked up at both of them, expression unreadable for a beat. Then she said, very softly, "You're idiots."

Oscar grinned. "That's a compliment from you."

Lando moved to nudge her shoulder, but she stepped out of reach — except not out of irritation, just anticipation. She knew exactly what was coming.

"You're going to try to gang up on me now," she stated.

Lando blinked. "Why would we—"

Oscar pounced first, grabbing her wrist and lightly jabbing at her side. "We would never," he said with mock innocence.

Amelia shrieked and jerked away, but Lando joined in, carefully — always mindful of her reactions, but not holding back so much that it felt patronising. His fingers found her ribs, tickling just enough to get her laughing — real, loud, unfiltered laughter.

"Stop! I hate this!" she wheezed, kicking at the air as she twisted out of reach.

"You're smiling," Oscar said.

"That's involuntary!" She yelped, breathless.

They finally relented, letting her drop onto the padded bench near the wall, still catching her breath. Her face was flushed, her hair askew, and she looked... radiant with happiness.

"Jerks," she muttered, but her voice was light.

"You love us," Lando said, crouching beside her.

"Only sometimes," she said flatly.

Behind them, just outside the glass-panelled door, Zak stood watching.

He hadn't meant to intrude. He'd only come by to drop off a briefing packet. But when he'd seen the three of them — his daughter, laughing and safe, surrounded by two young men who not only respected her mind but held her heart with equal reverence — he'd stayed where he was.

He didn't move. Didn't interrupt. Just watched for a little while longer.

Amelia, who'd grown up unsure of where she fit. Amelia, who used to hide in closets with puzzle books. Amelia, who didn't make friends easily but somehow had forged these bonds — raw, steady, honest — with Oscar and Lando. A best friend and a husband.

Zak blinked hard.

When Lando looked up a few minutes later and spotted him, he just gave a little nod. Not a word passed between them.

Zak nodded back and slipped away.

Inside the sim suite, Amelia stood again, brushing herself off.

"Back to work!"

Lando and Oscar groaned in unison.

"Fine," she said. "But if either of you miss apexes like that in Spa, I'll point and laugh at you on live television."

"You'd love that," Oscar said.

"She would," Lando added. "Humiliation. She likes embarrassing us."

Amelia just smirked, already queuing up the next run. "Well. I'm not ruling it out."

And as the next session loaded, the screen filling with the digital outline of the track, she brought her hand up to apply a heavy load of pressure to her hip.

Grounding. Safe.

—

Later, much later, the sim rigs had powered down for the night.

Amelia sat alone on the low bench, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Not in discomfort; she wasn't overwhelmed. She was just... processing.

Oscar had ducked out a few minutes earlier, mumbling something about protein bars and his "cramped spine." Lando had promised to bring back coffee. That left her here, in the comfortable lull, with space to think.

Oscar.

It had taken her a while to really begin to understand Oscar Piastri on a personal level. He was quiet, like her. Dry, like chalk. Flat-voiced in a way that people often mistook for aloofness. But Amelia had recognised it immediately — that instinct for silence. The calm observation. The way he didn't try to fill air that didn't need filling.

He had become somewhat like a younger brother to her — not in the way people throw that phrase around when they mean someone's simply "less experienced," but in the very real, familial sense. She worried about him. Checked his telemetry obsessively. Snuck 'drink water/have a snack' notes into his strategy folder. Looked for signs of overwork in his eyes before every qualifying session.

And he, in the way Oscar was able, quietly looked after her too.

He never flinched at her directness. Never called her intense or difficult or cold when she snapped out instructions without pleasantries. In fact, he appreciated it. He understood that when she called something "icky," it wasn't a personal attack; it was an opportunity for precision.

After a race where she'd gotten particularly sharp with him over comms, he'd found her in the engineering room, dropped a packet of salted pretzels on her desk, and said, simply, "You were right. I just wasn't ready to hear it in the moment."

And that was all.

That was the kind of person Oscar was. He saw her and he didn't need to explain that he did.

And then there was Lando.

The loud to her quiet. The warmth to her ice. The one person on earth who could decipher her entire emotional state by the mere shape of her shoulders, or the angle of her fingers curled around a water bottle.

They were married now, still new enough to feel surreal when people called her "Mrs. Norris" in emails, but the foundation they stood on had been built long before the vows. He was the only person she could touch when her skin physically hurt from overstimulation. The only one who could joke with her during a meltdown and have it feel safe instead of cruel.

Lando understood her chaos. He never tried to change her, only to interpret.

Like when they were in the grocery store, and she couldn't bear the way the overhead lights buzzed, and he just... squeezed her hand once, without saying anything, and then diverted them to the sunglasses section and slid a funky pair onto her nose.

Or tonight, when she'd needed the sim session to be productive, and he'd let her lead, followed her notes, asked questions only when her tone said she was open to them.

And then — when she was finally starting to relax, he'd poked her ribs and made her laugh until she curled up on the floor.

Lando gave her a kind of emotional mirroring she'd never thought possible. Like her feelings were real and reflected, but never judged. He loved her not just in spite of who she was, but because of it. Bluntness, hyper-focus, sharp tongue, and all.

Very quickly, Lando and Oscar had become one of her safe zones.

One was home. The other had become family. Both made the world feel a little less jagged.

She rested her cheek against her knees and exhaled.

They didn't tiptoe around her needs. They didn't act like they were noble for understanding. They didn't talk about her like she was a puzzle or a pet project. They just treated her like Amelia; sharp, driven, autistic, brilliant, flawed, enough.

It was rare to feel seen. Rarer still to feel seen and protected.

The door eased open then, and Lando returned, holding two takeaway cups. He handed her one wordlessly, sat down beside her, and bumped her knee with his.

"Hey, baby. You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah." Her voice was soft. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

She smiled. "I'm just feeling grateful, actually."

Lando tilted his head. "For?"

"You," she said simply. "Oscar. All of it."

He didn't tease her this time. Just leaned his head against hers for a second, warm and grounding.

"You're my person," he murmured. "My wife. My love."

She nodded. "I know." She whispered. "And you're mine."

—

Spa

The rain hadn't started yet, but it always smelled like it was about to in Spa. The mountains curled thick and green around the paddock, clouds hanging low. Amelia tugged her Quadrant hoodie sleeves over her hands and squinted at her tablet. Oscar's long run data looked steady, rear temps maybe a touch high, but manageable.

She heard the approach before she looked up. Soft-footed, deliberate. Someone in flats, not heels.

Oscar appeared first. Then, behind him, a woman with the exact same eyebrows and the same unbothered stillness in her eyes.

"Amelia," Oscar said, ever direct, "this is my mum."

Nicole Piastri smiled. warm and unfussy. "Nicole. It is so lovely to finally meet you."

Amelia didn't immediately move. Not because she didn't want to, but because her brain caught on the sudden shift in social rules; the expectation to greet, to be personable, to be human-shaped instead of work-shaped. She blinked once, then reflected the woman's smile as best as she could.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry. I was looking at tyre deltas. My brain's still... there."

Nicole just smiled. "Oscar warned me."

Amelia turned her head. Furrowed her brows. "Warned you?"

"He said you'd be brilliant but a bit intense. That I'd like you." Her tone was easy. No condescension, no forced warmth. Just observation.

Oscar folded his arms. "Didn't say 'a bit intense.' That was Mum's addition."

Nicole raised a brow. "You said she made a Ferrari engineer cry once."

Amelia blinked again. "He ignored my pit safety brief three times."

Nicole laughed, not unkindly, and that was the moment Amelia relaxed, just a fraction.

"I like your son," Amelia said simply.

"I'd hope so," Nicole replied. "You're guiding him."

Amelia nodded. "He listens. He understands things without needing them repeated. He's good."

Nicole gave her a look. "He's also stubborn and sometimes pretends he isn't tired when he absolutely is."

Oscar made a wounded sound. "Mum."

"True," Amelia said, folding her arms. "I've started watching for the eye-rubbing thing. It's his tell."

Nicole grinned. "Exactly."

There was a beat. A moment of quiet. Amelia stepped back slightly, giving herself a little more breathing room from the interaction. Nicole didn't follow, didn't press. She just let the silence exist.

That, more than anything, made Amelia feel at ease.

"You're welcome to come sit in for the long-run review," she said. "If you want."

Nicole's eyebrows lifted. "You'd let a driver's mum sit in?"

Amelia shrugged. "If it were any other mum, maybe not. But you raised Oscar. And he doesn't let nonsense slide. So I assume neither do you."

Nicole beamed, warm and wide. "You really are as blunt as he said."

Amelia nodded. "I'm autistic. Directness is safer for everyone."

Nicole, without missing a beat: "Well, I'm Australian. Directness is our native language."

Oscar looked between them, then shook his head with a half-smile. "This is going to be terrifying."

"Don't be dramatic," Amelia said, already turning back to her screen.

Nicole patted Oscar's shoulder, but her eyes lingered on Amelia with quiet gratitude.

She saw it.

Not just the brilliance, but the care.

And for a mother watching someone else guide her son at 300 km/h, that mattered more than anything.

—

It had rained sometime during the night — Amelia had heard it, soft and steady against the hotel room window, the kind of sound that settled right into soul and lulled her into deeper sleep. But now the world outside was damp and quiet, and inside, everything smelled like Lando: clean cotton, a little citrus, faint cologne lingering from yesterday's press outfits.

She was already awake. Always woke up earlier on race days.

Propped against the headboard, hair still messy from sleep, she had her iPad balanced on her knees — telemetry overlays already pulled up from FP3, tyre strategy notes highlighted in orange and blue.

The bed shifted as Lando stirred beside her.

"Mm... it's so early," he mumbled, voice rough and slow. "Why are you working already?"

"I'm not working," she replied, glancing down at him without shifting her hands. "I'm just reviewing."

He cracked one eye open. "That's working."

"I'm not writing anything new," she said. "I'm checking the data I already have. That can't be classed as work."

Lando groaned dramatically and rolled onto his side to face her. One arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back down into the pillows, iPad and all.

She made a small protesting noise, stiff in the unfamiliar position, but didn't push away.

"You're not a robot," he murmured against her shoulder. "You're allowed to spend your morning being sleepy and stupid—like me."

"I know," she said. Bbut being still had always been difficult. There was always something to check, a variable to account for. "But I always feel better when I've gone over it one extra time."

He was quiet for a moment. Just breathing. Then he kissed the bare slope of her shoulder, soft and deliberate.

"Alright," he whispered. "One more time. And then you let it go for an hour. Just long enough to have breakfast. With me."

She didn't answer straight away. He felt her fingers tap lightly against the back of his hand — the same rhythm he'd learned years ago. The one that meant she was thinking. Processing.

Then, finally, she turned her head and nudged his forehead with hers.

"Okay," she said. "One hour."

He smiled, satisfied.

They stayed like that for a while. Her eyes flicking between data points. His thumb tracing lazy circles against her hip beneath the blanket. They didn't need to speak — didn't need to fill the air with reassurance. That was the magic of it, really. They understood each other in silences too.

Eventually, Amelia closed the iPad with a decisive click.

"Tyre data's solid," she said quietly. "Oscar'll be fine. Track temps are stable. We're good."

Lando pressed a kiss just beneath her ear. "You always say that. And you're always right."

"I'm not always right," she replied, voice flat but self-aware. "But I am today."

He laughed and leaned up on one elbow, eyes crinkling. "God, I love it when you sound like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you believe that we're going to win."

She blinked, then tilted her head a little. "You are going to win. Or close to it. I can feel it."

"Feel it, huh?"

"Yes. Based on my extensive logic and my faith in both of you."

"That's a dangerous combo." He grinned, then leaned down to kiss her — soft, not rushed. The kind of kiss people only share when they've been through everything together and still feel like choosing each other again in the quiet moments.

When he pulled back, her hand was resting lightly against his jaw.

"You good?" he asked. "Like... really good? For today?"

She thought about it. Then nodded. "Yeah. I'm regulated. My head's clear."

He smiled at that — the way she named her emotional state like an engineer running diagnostics. He loved that about her. Loved that she'd learned to say it, and that she trusted him with the truth.

"Then let's go race," he whispered, forehead pressed to hers.

And for a few more seconds, they just breathed, tangled together in a warm, sleepy cocoon, before the noise and chaos of race day swept them back into the world.

But for now, in this tiny window of stillness, they had each other.

— The air was heavy. Dense with mist, thick with tension, and wet enough that Amelia had already pre-loaded five different strategy trees before the lights went out.

Oscar had out-qualified Lando again.

She was laser-focused on Turn 1. Always Turn 1. Always La Source.

Amelia's fingers hovered over her tablet. Not touching—just tapping in the air beside it in a rhythm: four slow, one sharp. Then again. And again.

She didn't have to think as she walked Oscar through the formation lap. It came to naturally now, like a dance you couldn't forget.

Lights out.

"Oscar launch good," came one of the spotters in her ear.

She blinked. Tracked the orange blur to the inside line.

Then a flash of red, Sainz's Ferrari. sweeping across far too aggressively.

The sound in her headset crackled with team chatter, voices overlapping. She tuned most of them out and locked in on Oscar's feed just in time to see his onboard camera jolt. Not a bump. A collision.

The screen stuttered. Then black.

"Yellow flag. Incident Turn 1. Piastri, Sainz. Debris."

Amelia didn't speak.

"Amelia?" It was one of the performance engineers. "Oscar's saying steering is compromised. Damage right side—maybe suspension."

Still, she didn't speak. She tapped once against her palm. Hard. Her throat clenched. The pads of her fingers tingled like they did when she short-circuited.

She hit the comms.

"Oscar. Talk to me."

"Yeah—um—something's broken. I can't turn right properly. Think it's done."

And it was. Less than a lap.

She closed her eyes, just for a second, trying not to fall into the spiral. Not here. Not now. There was a job to do, Lando was still out there, but Oscar was her driver. Her ducky. He trusted her implicitly. And now, for no fault of his own, he was crawling back to the garage with a wounded car and nothing to show for it.

The red mist tried to rise in her chest—anger first. Not at Oscar. Not even really at Carlos. Just at the sheer waste of it. The injustice. The gut-punch of preparation ruined by recklessness. The voice in her head hissed, He finished the sprint in P2 yesterday. He deserved better than this.

She pulled her noise-cancelling headset tighter. The extra pressure helped, grounding her in physical sensation. She curled her toes in her shoes and focused on her breath.

Lando's voice broke through on the other channel, calm despite the chaos.

"Hey—did Oscar retire?"

Will gestured for her to respond.

"Yeah," she said, quietly. Then louder, "Yes. First corner damage. Focus up."

"Copy." A pause. Then softer, "That sucks."

It did. It sucked.

But Amelia didn't get to crumble, even though every part of her was fraying. She was still on the pit wall. Still working. Still leading.

Oscar's car was pushed back into the garage. She caught sight of him from across the paddock—helmet off, jaw clenched, walking quickly past the media scrum with his shoulders stiff. She didn't call him over. Not yet. He needed a minute. So did she.

By the time Lando crossed the line in P7, she was steady again. Not okay. But functioning.

—

Oscar was sitting on a flight case, race suit peeled to his waist, water bottle tucked under one knee. Amelia sat beside him without asking.

"You alright?" She asked.

He gave a dry laugh. "I made it fifty seconds. New record."

She didn't try to make him feel better. That wasn't her way. Instead, she said, "You made the right decision boxing the car immediately instead of dragging a damaged car around the track. Steering arm was shattered. You did everything right."

He nodded, but his mouth was tight.

She nudged her elbow against his.

"Still proud of you," she said.

He finally looked at her. "Even after I didn't finish a lap?"

"Especially then," she replied. "You stayed calm. You brought it back safe. You're my driver, Oscar. One racing incident that ends badly for us doesn't erase that."

His eyes softened, just a little. "You're getting sappy."

She rolled her eyes. "No I'm not. I don't even know what that means."

That made him laugh, a small honest noise, and she counted that as a win.

—

They had a brief respite in Monaco before heading to Zandvoort.

They looked at a few apartments. Didn't like any of them.

When they arrived at Max's place for dinner on the Wednesday, he took one look at their downtrodden expressions and laughed. "It is always more difficult the second time."

—

Zandvoort

The race at Zandvoort was marked by unpredictable weather. Lando finished P7, while Oscar managed to finish just inside of the points — P9.

Amelia saw it all unfold from the pit wall, her eyes scanning the monitors. The intermittent rain was a nightmare.

After the race, she found Lando in the garage, reviewing data.

"You did well," she commented.

He looked up, surprised. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "You adapted to the conditions very well."

He cracked a smile, pulling her into a brief embrace. "Thanks, baby."

That night, as they lay in bed, the sound of rain tapping against the window, Amelia whispered, "I'm really, really happy, Lando."

Lando tightened his hold on her.

—

They escaped to Lake Como for a short break between race weekends.

On the first morning of their mini vacation, they took a boat out onto the lake. Amelia sat at the bow, the wind tousling her hair.

"This place is so beautiful," she said. "Everything looks like something you'd see in a movie. Or on Pinterest."

Lando was steering the boat. He glanced at her and nodded toward his disposable camera, "Take some pictures, baby."

She picked it up and brought it up to her eye, squinting through the mini viewfinder.

He watched her fondly.

—

Monza

At Monza, Lando finished P8.

Things didn't go so well for Oscar.

Amelia let her head fall into her hands as the confirmation of the penalty came from the FIA.

"Shit," she muttered.

Her dad gave her a sympathetic grimace.

—

Japan

Amelia's fingers were a blur. Tip of her pen flicking rapidly against the plastic corner of the radio console. Three taps, pause. Three taps, pause. She hadn't even noticed the motion — her go-to stim when her body couldn't contain everything pressing up behind her ribcage.

Oscar was crossing the line. P2. Behind Max, of course; but ahead of Charles, ahead of Lewis.

And Lando... Lando was P3.

"Piastri, across the line — that's P2! Double podium for McLaren!"

The garage exploded; engineers leaping into the air, radios dropped, shoulders clapped, bodies turned into celebratory chaos.

But Amelia stayed locked in her seat at the pit wall, still staring at the screen, her breath stuck like static in her chest.

She couldn't move. Not yet.

Oscar's voice cracked through her headset, just the barest edge of disbelief in his normally even tone.

"Holy shit. Amelia. We did it."

She exhaled sharply, finally, a sound like relief and triumph tangled together.

"You drove it," she said, her voice clipped but shaking. "You followed every direction. Managed the tyres well in every stint. Well done, ducky."

"Wouldn't have got here without your mad plans." He was laughing, light and breathless. "Tell me I wasn't hallucinating this whole race."

"You weren't," she said, and suddenly her throat closed up, emotion catching on the edges of her usually flat tone. "This is real."

Will's hand landed on her shoulder, not jarring, just grounding, and she blinked up at him, eyes wide and wet.

"You can go," he said softly. "Garage's already heading to parc fermé."

She stood on instinct, legs shaky. Her hands were flapping now — the stim automatic, rapid-firing like her brain needed somewhere to put the excess. Pride, relief, noise, lights — it was too much. And it was perfect.

—

The second she caught sight of them — Lando and Oscar, helmets off, both laughing like kids who'd just stolen something valuable, it hit her like a gut-punch of joy.

They'd done it. Both of them. Her husband. Her driver.

Oscar caught her first, jogging toward her as the crowd swelled behind the fences.

She barely got a word out before he threw his arms around her.

It wasn't their usual style; they weren't overly physical, weren't the sentimental type. But she folded into it with a small, shocked laugh, her hands fluttering uselessly against his back.

"You really are mine now," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm not letting anyone else engineer you ever again."

Oscar pulled back with a crooked grin. "No complaints here."

And then she saw him.

Lando, weaving through the throng, his eyes locked on hers even before she noticed he was moving.

He reached her in four long strides and didn't say a word — just pulled her in, full-body, sweaty, burning fuel smell and all. His arms wrapped around her waist, grounding, safe. "You did this," he whispered into her ear. "You did this."

She shook her head, face pressed to his shoulder. "No. You and Oscar. You drove so, so well."

His hand was in her hair now, warm against her scalp. "You made the car better. You kept Oscar calm. You brought us here. You're the one who held it all together."

And suddenly, she couldn't stop the tears.

Not loud or dramatic — just silent, uncontainable release. Her body started rocking a little, barely perceptible — a comfort motion, side to side, tiny and rhythmic. She pressed her face harder into Lando's shoulder, hiding it the way she always did when the emotions got too big.

Overwhelmed. Elated. So proud she could barely breathe.

Lando didn't flinch. He just held her tighter and whispered, "I've got you, baby. It's okay."

Oscar was still hovering nearby, giving her space now, but watching with a half-smile, the kind that said he understood. And in a small way, he did.

Because Oscar had learned her tells. Her voice drops when she's overstimulated. Her stimming when she's overwhelmed. Her flinch when unexpected noise hits too hard. And still, he trusted her implicitly. Trusted her to guide him through a Grand Prix like Spa, where one mistake could end everything.

And now they were here.

P2. P3.

Double podium.

Amelia finally looked up, eyes shining, flapping her hands once more to bleed off the weight. Lando caught one, laced their fingers, and kissed the back of it without a word.

Zak was there too — in the background, watching. And for a moment, he didn't see his driver or his race engineer or the numbers on the screen.

He saw his daughter, overwhelmed but alight with joy, held safely between two young men who'd become her fiercest allies. Her husband, her teammate, her family.

He smiled to himself. He didn't say a word.

She didn't need him to.

—

The post-race buzz was elevated. Team shirts were drenched in champagne, and the McLaren hospitality tent was buzzing with an electric excitement.

Amelia didn't usually do broadcast interviews, that was more Lando's territory. But this time, after this race — a double podium, both drivers flawless, Sky had requested her by name.

The paddock mic stand felt too tall. She adjusted it twice.

"Amelia Norris," the reporter began brightly, mic held between them. "First of all, congratulations. Double podium for McLaren — Lando second, Oscar third — how are you feeling right now?"

Amelia blinked. Twice. She hadn't stopped moving since the chequered flag. Still hadn't properly eaten. Still had telemetry fragments dancing in her brain. She opened her mouth, paused, and then nodded slowly.

"I feel... good," she said honestly, voice low and a little clipped. "A bit overwhelmed. But proud. They both drove amazingly today. Especially Oscar. He nailed every brief."

There was something endearing about her calmness — like she was one breath away from shutting the whole operation down to explain exactly how Oscar had maximised delta windows through Sector 2.

The interviewer smiled. "And fans have been picking up on your dynamic with Oscar, especially from the radio. You called him 'Ducky' today — again. Can you talk us through that? Where did the nickname come from?"

Amelia blinked again, then huffed, not irritated, just... caught slightly off guard.

"I give people nicknames when I trust them," she said simply. "'Oscar' is what everyone calls him. 'Ducky' is mine."

There was a beat of silence, the reporter briefly stunned by the directness. But it wasn't defensive or awkward — just the truth, laid bare like everything Amelia said.

"Well, it's clearly working," the reporter recovered, grinning. "Because his defending against Perez and Charles today was phenomenal."

"Yes," Amelia said. "Because we planned for it. He did exactly what I asked of him."

"Did you expect a podium today?"

"I expect possibility," she said, quick. "Expectations are dangerous. But the data said we could be there. And then Oscar delivered on it. So did Lando. That's why I build cars. That's why I stay up all night running simulations. For this."

Her hands moved a little as she spoke — stimming subtly, thumb flicking against her palm. But her voice was steady.

"Would you call this the best day of your season so far?" The interviewer asked, lowering the mic slightly.

Amelia took a breath. Looked out toward the pit wall, where orange and black were still gathered like a tide of fire. Lando was being hauled in a bear hug by one of the engineers. Oscar was still helmeted, leaning back against the barrier and grinning in that quiet way he always did when something mattered to him.

Then she turned back to the camera, deadpan:

"Yes," she said. "But I plan to beat it."

The interviewer laughed. "Love it. Thank you, Amelia. Congratulations again. And give our best to Oscar and Lando."

She cracked a tiny smile, adjusted her headset, and turned back toward the garage, already thinking about what she'd tweak for Quatar.

—

They were supposed to be taking a break from apartment hunting.

It was a quiet, post-race Monday. The heat was clinging to the Côte d'Azur like a second skin.

And sure, their little two-bedroom near the Port had started to feel a touch claustrophobic. Not because it wasn't nice — it was. It had been their first proper home. But between Lando's racing gear, Amelia's engineering schematics, and the six different pairs of shoes he was tripping over daily, the place was bursting at the seams.

Still, they weren't in a rush.

Until Lando had said, offhandedly over breakfast, "Should we just go see that listing from yesterday? The one with the big balcony and the weird layout?"

She had blinked, then nodded. "I did like that one."

"And?"

"Okay. Sure. Let's go."

So they did.

They ended up viewing three places that day. One was too sterile, the kind of cold marble and glass aesthetic that made Amelia feel like she'd been dropped inside a very expensive hospital. Another had a stunning view, but a persistent echo in the living room that made her skin crawl. It was the kind of sound most people didn't even notice. Lando did — but only because he noticed her the second she tensed up.

Then came the last one.

The agent had apologised in advance. "It's a bit... odd," he'd warned, as they stepped into the building.

Amelia, eyes scanning the corridor, shrugged. "So are we."

Lando grinned.

The apartment was on the top floor — a penthouse. A strange little split-level with slanted ceilings and sun that pooled in lazy patches across the wood floors. Amelia felt it first — not a lightning bolt, but a quiet hum under her ribs. She wandered through the kitchen, into the living room, and paused.

There was a swing.

A proper sensory swing — heavy canvas, anchored securely into a ceiling beam. It was suspended just off the floor in the corner of what looked like a reading nook, draped in soft light from a low window.

Lando stopped just behind her.

"Oh," he said, voice going quiet.

Amelia didn't speak. She walked straight to it, ran her fingers along the reinforced ropes, then sat down slowly. She shifted, testing the weight, and the swing gently curved to cradle her. The instant pressure across her hips and lower back was like flipping a switch in her chest — her breathing slowed, the tension in her shoulders eased.

It felt like being held.

Lando crouched in front of her, hands braced on his knees. "You like it?"

She nodded once. "It's perfect."

He didn't need to ask why. He already knew.

Amelia rarely explained her sensory profile to anyone. But Lando had learned it like a second language — not because she asked him to, but because he wanted to. He knew the way certain fabrics made her retreat, how sharp noises cut through her thoughts like glass. He knew the difference between her shutting down and zoning out. And more than anything, he knew what it meant when she found something that made her feel safe.

He tapped the side of the swing gently. "We could put a second one on the balcony. So you can stargaze."

She blinked. "You sound like you've already decided that we're moving in?"

"You decided," he said, standing up and offering her his hand. "You just didn't say it yet."

She took his hand. He pulled her up slowly, kissed her temple, and added with a smile, "You did say you liked this one."

—

They got home late. Amelia lay on the sofa, bare feet tucked under a throw blanket, Lando stretched out with his head in her lap. Her iPad was open beside her, a checklist of questions about the new apartment left half-ticked. But neither of them were talking.

They didn't need to.

Amelia was stimming softly, tapping the curve of Lando's shoulder in a light rhythmic pattern. He hummed when she changed tempo, like he could feel her thoughts moving.

"It felt right," she said, finally.

"I know."

"I don't mean just the swing. The light. The acoustics. Even the flooring. It was all right."

"I noticed," he murmured. "Your hands didn't twitch once while we were there."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "It felt like it was built for me. Which is statistically improbable. But still."

"Maybe it was waiting."

She looked down at him. "Places don't wait, Lando. They're inanimate structures."

"But what if this one did?" He said, eyes half-lidded. "What if someone built it weird on purpose so that one day a very particular girl with a very particular brain would walk in and go oh, this feels like home?"

Amelia blinked. Her mouth twitched. "That's not how architecture works."

"It's how love works, though."

She blinked again, slower this time. Then leaned down and kissed the side of his head.

When she pulled back, she whispered, "Let's make it ours."

[whatdoyouwanttocallmefor]

Can you make a long version of 'dangerous charmer'?

ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ʜᴀɴ ᴊɪꜱᴜɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Helloo!!!! Im so sorry it take a very long time :(( I swear I already write it but I kept changing because I just have problem with my brain and I just feel the story is not good? I still feel it's not good but umm maybe it can be considered? please :(( Anyways, here's a long version of Dangerous Charmer. Enjoy

Warning: Contains themes of possessiveness, violence, and mafia-related content

---

Han Jisung was a mastermind.

Not just clever. Not just strategic.

No, he was terrifyingly brilliant, the kind of man who could dismantle an empire with a smile and a soft “Oops.” In the underworld, people spoke of him in whispers, like saying his name too loud would summon him. And if he did appear? You didn’t live to tell the tale.

To the world, Han Jisung was a ghost in designer suits, a storm in Gucci sunglasses.

But to you?

He was the man who bought three different types of milk because he could never remember which one you liked. The man who quietly learned to braid hair just so he could help when you had a bad wrist day. The man who didn’t sleep unless your side of the bed was warm.

He was chaos outside. But with you? He was comfort.

You were brushing your teeth one morning, still groggy and half-aware, when you noticed something on the mirror. A sticky note.

“You mumble in your sleep. It’s cute. I love you. - J 🖤

You laughed, toothpaste foam nearly spilling out. “This idiot,” you murmured, your heart fluttering.

He left notes like that sometimes. Sometimes they were sweet. Sometimes utterly dumb.

“You looked hot kicking me in your sleep last night.” “Bought you four cupcakes. Ate two. You’ll survive.” “I bribed the bakery lady to give you the warm pastries. Don’t ask.”

You swore he had the soul of a menace and the heart of a poet.

Later that day, Jisung slid an envelope across the kitchen counter, looking way too smug for a man wearing Hello Kitty slippers.

“Here,” he said.

You paused mid-sip of your coffee, eyeing the envelope like it was a trap. “What is it this time?”

“A gift.” He leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand like he already knew you were going to freak out.

You tore it open and froze. “This… this is a black card, Jisung.”

“Yup.”

You nearly choked. “This is... do you know how much money is on this?”

He grinned. “It’s infinite. Just like my love for you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s so corny.”

“Corny and loaded,” he quipped. “Now take it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a kept woman, Jisung.”

He laughed. “You are kept. Just… also deeply loved and dangerously spoiled.”

You softened, biting your lip. “I don’t need money to feel loved.”

He walked around the counter, gently cupping your cheeks. “I know. That’s what makes you different. But I want to give you everything. Because this world is brutal. And money? It’s my sword. My shield. My power. And if it can make your life even one ounce safer or easier, then you’re going to take the damn card.”

You stared up at him, heart twisting. He wasn’t giving you a luxury. He was giving you protection in the only language his world understood.

“…Fine,” you whispered.

“Atta girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Go buy yourself a tank. Or ten cats. Or a tiny island. Surprise me.”

---

But Jisung didn’t protect you with money alone.

There was a night, cold and too quiet, when everything changed.

You’d gone out alone for five minutes. Five. You wanted to grab a snack from the corner store, thinking no one would notice. Jisung had been in a meeting, and you didn’t want to bother him.

Big mistake.

Someone followed you out.

You didn’t notice until a hand brushed your wrist. “Hey—got a second?”

You turned, startled, only for Jisung to appear out of nowhere. One second it was just you and the stranger. The next, Jisung had him slammed against the concrete wall, rage pouring off him in waves.

“You must have a death wish,” he said, low and cold.

The man panicked. “I—I wasn’t trying anything—!”

“You touched what’s mine,” Jisung growled, twisting the man’s arm just enough to make him cry out.

“Jisung!” You ran up, grabbing his shoulder. “Stop it! He didn’t do anything!”

His grip didn’t loosen.

“Jisung, look at me,” you said, voice shaking. “Please. Let him go.”

His jaw clenched. Then, with a reluctant grunt, he dropped the man, who scrambled off into the night like his life depended on it.

When you got home, Jisung didn’t say a word. He sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, eyes dark and unreadable. You sat beside him, hesitant.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You think I’m angry because you went out alone?” he asked quietly.

“…Aren’t you?”

He looked at you. “No. I’m angry at myself. For not protecting you better.”

“Jisung, I’m not helpless.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I won’t burn this city to the ground if someone dares to touch you.”

You reached over, taking his hand. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

His throat bobbed. “Yes, I do. That’s how I keep you safe. I’m the villain, remember? Let me be the monster so you never have to be scared.”

You leaned your forehead against his. “I’m not scared of you.”

“I wish you were,” he whispered.

A week later, the man who touched you was gone.

No word. No body. Just… gone.

And you didn’t ask.

One evening, curled up on Jisung’s lap, you finally whispered, “He disappeared.”

He sipped his drink. “Yes.”

You hesitated. “Did you—”

He looked at you slowly. “I warned him.”

You swallowed, but didn’t press further.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

He smiled against your cheek. “Keep me. Forever.”

---

That night, you had a nightmare.

You saw Jisung, bloodied, alone, walking through a dark hallway as people whispered behind him. You called his name, but he didn’t turn. You screamed, and still he kept walking until he vanished into the dark.

You woke with a start, breath ragged.

Jisung stirred beside you. “Baby?”

You couldn’t even answer. Just clung to him.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, no questions asked. “It was a dream. I’m here.”

You trembled. “I dreamed I lost you. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I’ll always find you,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face. “Even if I have to tear the world apart.”

You buried your face in his chest. “Promise?”

He pulled you tighter. “I promise. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll never leave you behind.”

Han Jisung was a walking contradiction.

The man who played piano when he thought no one was listening. The man who bought a tiny kitten because he saw you smile at it once in a shop window. The man who wore blood like cologne, but flinched when you cried.

He was chaos wrapped in silk. A storm behind a smile.

But his love?

His love was unwavering. Fierce. Terrifying in its intensity, but pure in its purpose.

And if the world ever dared to take you from him?

Well.

It would burn.

---

Perm Tag : @m-325

[pennyold]

warmth arms | j.m

summary: A brief drive through the town was tamed by the rain, which had a tinny effect on their relationship.

warnings: flirting, joel teaches how to kiss, fluff, and kissing a 'family figure'

w.c: 1,523

a/n: i finally did the BEST part and most HOT scene i wrote a bout this Joel, omg, i got sooo excited that i couldn't stop imagining him like that, im gonna faint. READ THE WARNINGS PLS, THEY ARE NOT ACTUALLY FAMILY BY BLOOD

main masterlist ↲

part one

part two

part three

part four

peace and love, penny ★

The next day, you felt like making a meal for Joel. He was still working on some tasks in his garage, and you could barely see him when he entered the cabin. You picked up a small brown book with worn covers, opened it, and found notes written by Joel. You read the first few pages, and it was a recipe diary; you couldn't help but smile as you read, imagining Joel cooking by himself.

You set the book aside and searched for some ingredients in the kitchen; you would make a dish you had in mind. That dish was taught to you by the woman who 'took care' of you months ago. You still remembered, so you started cooking.

By the evening, Joel had already finished his work. He entered the house and knew perfectly well that you were in the kitchen. "Hey," you turned to look at him and smiled. "Cooking again?" he asked as they sat at the table in front of the kitchen. "What?" "Didn't you get it, Uncle Joel?" he shook his head and pressed his lips together. He hated the 'uncle' coming out of your mouth. "It seems fine to me, you cook well, but you have to let me cook for you," you denied, sitting next to him. "You give me a roof, I should cook for you," you insisted, and Joel noticed how your head works.

After finishing the meal, Joel had to go to the village for some supplies, but he didn't want to leave you alone, so he invited you to go with him. You gladly accepted and followed him.

The town was quiet, as usual, but it always had something to hide. Joel parked at the hardware store, and you accompanied him. While Joel was asking for the materials at the counter, you took a look around the hardware store. "Hey, darlin'," Joel called you, and handed you a bag with light items. "Could you take this to the car?" You nodded and left the store, walking towards the truck, where you placed the bag.

You turned around and fixed your gaze on an antique shop. The store was one unit away from the hardware store, so you waited for Joel. He came out with another bag in his hand, smiling as he walked towards you. "Hey," you smiled back. "Hi." He looked at the window display with the objects and raised his eyebrows. "Wow, so you like old things, huh?" You nodded. "They're pretty, I like their vintage look." He nodded. "Let's take a look." You took him by the arm and led him into the store with you.

While you were looking at the antiques, Joel couldn't take his eyes off you. Every now and then, he looked at your face, inspecting your lips, nose, cheekbones, eyebrows, and the creases that formed at the corners of your mouth. "Could you stop?" you whispered beside him while taking a cup "What do you mean?" he whispered back with a slight smile on the side of his mouth "You keep staring at me, do you think I don't notice?" after saying the last word, you looked up and locked your gaze with Joel's.

Without having noticed it, your arm brushed against Joel's, and although Joel was taller than you, the closeness of both faces could be felt. "We should leave if you're not going to buy anything," he said playfully. You gently took him by the arm and pulled him towards you before he could walk out of your radar. "C'mere, I found a jacket for you, it would look great on you." You kept pulling his arm until you brought him to a rack with used clothes, among those piles of brown leather jackets.

You took one off a hanger and handed it to Joel. He raised an eyebrow. "Come on, try it on," you encouraged him, and he handed you the bag from the hardware store. He put on the jacket and stood in front of the old mirror, leaning against the wall. "I like it," you whispered as you watched the coat fit him like a glove, his arms looking bigger than when bare. "Oh really? Do you want me to buy it?" he looked at you for a second, and then looked at himself again. You shrugged. "I don't know, what do you think?" he laughed and took off the jacket to pay for it at the counter.

Upon leaving the store, the rain soaked them completely; it was raining so hard that the thick drops crashed against the pavement. Quickly, they got into the car, and all that could be heard were their breaths and the attempt to generate warmth to ease the slight shivering of their bodies. "Damn..." Joel gasped, "Everything okay?" he shook his head. "Everything will be muddy on the way to the cabin. If we leave now, we might get stuck." Joel was right, it was going to be complicated to drive in this rain. "Well, we'll stay here until the rain stops," you shrugged while trying to warm yourself by hugging yourself. "Are you very cold?" he asked you. You nodded slowly. "Can I take your jacket?" you said timidly. He shook his head and pulled your arm to crash your body against his.

He wrapped your body with his big arms, providing warmth with his chest, looked at your flushed face, and smiled, "Aren't you cold anymore?" he whispered, which made your hair stand on end and caused a slight tingling in your thighs. You denied answering his question, avoiding looking at him. It was becoming a comfortable position, but somewhat uncomfortable due to the strange feeling in your groin. You squeezed your thighs to calm that sensation, but it got worse; it had increased.

Joel noticed how you squirmed beneath his arms, thinking you were just trying to get comfortable, but it was something more. Without realizing it, you were getting friction in your intimate zone; it seemed pleasant, but it increased the urge to place your hand there. Inexplicably, you stopped moving and your insides contracted, suppressing a moan. "Everything okay? Do you want me to let you go?" You shook your head while touching Joel's arms, pressing his arms against your chest.

And in quick movements, you freed yourself from Joel's arms, took his face with both hands, and pressed your lips against his. Joel pushed you away and licked his lips, "What the hell...?" You pressed your lips together as you returned to your seat. "I'm sorry," you said before pressing your lips against his again. In a state of shock, Joel closed his eyes and noticed that you weren't moving your mouth; your lips were just pressed together. He pulled away again, this time, you stood still in front of him. "What was that?" Your cheeks got so hot that you looked away. "I kissed you," you whispered. "I know you did, but why?" he asked with doubt.

"Tell me the truth," he said while rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I-I... Joel... You mean a lot to me, so much." Joel blinked several times and sighed. "You like me, don't you?" he says while trying to understand the situation, you nodded and Joel cursed under his breath, "I'm too old, I can't like you, you're too young, you shouldn't..." he fell silent and thought that he had no idea what it was all about.

"Joel, I was in captivity for eight years, I don't even know what this feeling is when..." he silenced you by placing his fingers over your lips; he didn't want to hear about that right now. "Great, so we shouldn't repeat this, understood?" You nodded as you returned to your seat.

It seems that it hadn't been clear; now you were kissing Joel again, clumsily, but you liked feeling his mustache brushing against the corners of your lips. "Teach me," you whispered while placing gentle kisses on his cheeks. "Please," you whispered while looking at him with shining eyes. Joe grunted and ran his fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't be doing this, damn it," he denied while thinking again about how Tommy would react. He would put a noose around Joel's neck and hang him from a tree.

"Come on, Uncle Joel, show me." Joel grabbed your jaw with one hand, he pressed your face against his, closely. "Stop using that word, sweetheart." You frowned, "Which word?" You knew perfectly what he meant. "Uncle?" you said as Joel squeezed your cheeks, not aggressively. You groaned in pain, and finally, Joel kissed you. His mouth devoured yours, his lips surrounded yours, and he felt his stomach tighten. Little by little, he whispered what you could do during the kiss; you noticed how Joel did it, then you imitated his movements. Joel noticed how you molded yourself to him in seconds; he liked it a lot. "Alright, that's enough, long enough," he said, frustratedly as he got up from the sofa. "Is that all? I thought it would be better," you said in a playful tone while looking at him. "Better?" he repeated your words and laughed as he went up the stairs. "Go to sleep, kiddo."

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[oceansubconscious]

(No Demons/No Powers AU) Vergil drifts, Dante visits, and a white rabbit runs. Or, Vergil's first psychiatric symptom when he was a child, and Vergil's nth stay at a psych ward as an adult. 3,032 words | Gen | Angst with a Hopeful Ending | Hurt/Comfort.

There was once a boy with fair hair and a fierce frown. Vergil Sparda had little to frown about; he had a mother who was pure and just, and a father who was true and strong. All of his frowns and ire were stoked by his brother's fire. Dante Sparda had much to smile at, and many ventures on which to drag his brother along.

They were little more than knee-high, all knobby knees and bird-boned feet, when Dante dragged Vergil to the forest behind their manor. Leaves crunched loudly underfoot, and Vergil grouched about the weather, and missing lunch, and Dante's morning breath.

They spotted a white rabbit and broke into a run after it. The rabbit darted between trees. The brothers gave chase, three white-haired blurs running.

The rabbit jumped through large bushes, and they followed it into a clearing, but the rabbit was gone. Vergil and Dante forgot about the rabbit when they saw the clearing. Wide open, barren earth, as if all life was leached from it. A structure sat in the epicenter. Silence settled on the brothers, and seemed to settle on the forest, as they approached the structure and found it was a wishing well.

It was made of stone and had a wooden post; dripping water echoed in its depths. When Vergil inched closer and peeked over its edge, he saw no water, only inky black shadows. He tensed, rooted to the ground by a fear he couldn't explain.

Dante was braver. He stepped right to the edge, climbed over, and dangled his legs.

"What are you doing!" Vergil hissed.

"How deep is this thing?"

"You'll fall in there!"

"That's one way to find out," Dante laughed.

Vergil groaned and threw up his hands. "Fine! Just sit there like an idiot. I'm going home."

Vergil stomped off. But when he was six paces away, something pulled Vergil to a stop. He hesitated, looked over his shoulder at Dante, whose back muscles shifted as he swung his legs like an imp. Between one blink and the next, Dante was falling into the well.

This room is different from the others, but Vergil can't remember why. There's a large window overlooking the garden, and several sitting areas: a coffee table and a couch, two settees facing each other, a dining table with no food and four chairs. Inoffensive portraits of landscapes are nailed high on the walls (out of reaching distance) and framed with thick, antique frames. A portrait of a white rabbit in a forest hooks onto his eyes and doesn't let go.

It's warm here (which is very different), and it looks like a large living room in a mansion. But Vergil is not in a mansion. He knows he's not in a mansion. And it is very strange (very different) how the sitting areas are spaced wide apart, like there are invisible walls between them—invisible barriers.

Why is this room different? It itches at Vergil's brain, a vague itch that could be ignored, but he's stuck on it like he's stuck on the rabbit. A voice in the back of his mind notes that there are four separate exit doors. This information feels important, but he can't remember why.

"Vergil?"

Vergil turns his head from the rabbit. Dr. Morrison is speaking. He's sitting across from him at the dining table with no food and four chairs. He's wearing a brown tie today with swirling beige patterns that belong on a couch cushion.

"Do you know what we're doing now, Vergil?" Dr. Morrison says, his voice steady, rich, and inflectionless.

Vergil searches for his voice, for words, and finally replies, "No." The good doctor may have told him why he's here in the different room, but Vergil can't remember.

Someone inhales softly beside him, a stifled noise. Dante is sitting beside him. His hands are in his lap, and a voice in the back of Vergil's mind supplies that Dante is holding back the urge to restlessly fiddle with them. How the voice knows this, Vergil wonders, but its observation feels right; feels familiar; he has had this observation before. Vergil latches onto the feeling, doesn't look away from Dante.

Dante looks at Vergil with big, wet eyes and a smile on his lips. It's a contradictory expression; why is he smiling if his eyes are so sad?

"I'm here to sit with you for a little while," Dante says. "Would you like that?"

Yes. Vergil thinks he would like that. He looks forward to the days he can sit with his brother (something familiar and genuine in a life that feels staged to appear genuine). Those days don't come too often, do they? He sifts for the words to say that, the nouns and gerunds, and they slip between his fingers like water from oil.

Nero should be here, too, at the fourth chair. It doesn't look right that it's empty. Vergil wants to see Nero, his little boy with arms crossed and a pout identical to Dante's. But Nero isn't a little boy, is he? How old is Nero now?

Vergil tries to stretch his memory back, and it's like stretching an arthritic joint. The last time he saw the boy, he was…sixteen, yes, because he had taken him to get his license. They were going to get a car, too. It's important that they get him one.

"Vergil?" Dante says.

"Where's Nero?" Vergil asks. He should get Nero his license. No, his car—he should get him his car. He already has a license. The boy wants to be a mechanic, and it's ridiculous, and Vergil finds it very hard to tell him no.

Dante's smile withers. "Nero couldn't come today—but he says to get well soon. You'll accept your grubby brother as a substitute, right?" Dante half-smirks.

Since when did Dante become self-deprecating?

Vergil wants to lay into him about that. And add that no, in fact, his brother is not the same as his son, and both are welcome here, preferably at the same time. Pulling the right words from the pile of English in his brain is too difficult, so Vergil nods.

"Where's Nero?" He says. It feels important that he express this need clearly and repeatedly. Dante told him that, once, or maybe it was Dr. Morrison. Someone trying to help told him that.

Dr. Morrison glances at Dante. "He had an ECT procedure yesterday," he says in an undertone. Except there's no one here besides them, so who is he trying to prevent from listening in? "He's still having trouble focusing, as a result."

Those words seem to illuminate something in Dante's head because his eyes light up with relief. Some of the tension around his brows loosens. Marginally.

"So he's not usually like this—it's just a side effect of treatment?" Dante asks with poorly veiled hope. They're talking about me. The thought settles like a drop in a pond, quite gentle, rippling, before joining the muddy waters in his brain and becoming indistinguishable.

A lot of the people here talk about him in front of him. It is more important to think about Nero and Dante and the rabbit in the portrait and why rooms are different.

"Vergil?"

Dante has a slight furrow between his brows. Also, Dr. Morrison and his brown tie are gone. His chair is empty; now there are two empty chairs. (Vergil realizes that his own chair is the only one with armrests. Chairs at the head of the dining table have armrests, Vergil knows this, but his chair is at the side of the table beside Dante's. Again, it's a facsimile of a lived-in room, but it feels staged to appear as such.)

Dante catches him looking for the doctor, and the pinch between his brows disappears. He puts on an easygoing smile so familiar it hurts—he uses that same smile to reassure Nero when the boy doesn't know something and feels stupid for not knowing it. Vergil never knew how to teach Nero something without sounding like a know-it-all. Dante does it so easily as he explains Dr. Morrison left to give them more privacy for the rest of the visit.

"How are you?" Dante adds, blue eyes incredibly focused on Vergil. It shows a level of care that Dante, careless Dante, rarely shows so plainly. It's usually hidden behind a grin and an impish remark or two. There are no grins here. People who come from the outside don't grin here.

Dante asked him something. What was it? He wants to shrug in answer.

Vergil was never the type of man who shrugs childishly. Never the man who gives half-answers. He lies and directs the conversation elsewhere when he doesn't know the answer. Because half-answers are irritating to hear and show you're not in total control.

Vergil, in the end, shrugs. He doesn't have it in him to feel ashamed about it.

"Have they been treating you well?"

Vergil nods. They do. They're always so careful.

"That's good." Dante smiles. His jacket is glaringly red, and the leather is chipping at the collar. One side of his shirt is untucked, and he has a tiny stain on his jeans that may be old as time. He smells like aftershave and those glossy magazines he reads, and Vergil gets the sudden image of Dante asleep in a chair like an old man with a magazine splayed over his face.

Dante is the most visually stimulating thing he's seen in a while. Vergil hoards all these details. He urges his mind to wake up and photograph this moment.

Dante starts telling him about people and places. Long, meandering tales about the people in both their lives. Vergil should know them, but he doesn't remember half of those names. He only remembers Nero (and he fears even those memories are fading). Dante wants to keep him in the loop, catch him up with the world outside. But it's like reading a stranger's obituary; all these details of people he hasn't met and has no context for.

Those unknowns don't bother Vergil because he gets to hear Dante's voice, gets to watch him be so animated. It's so familiar, it hurts.

Vergil wants to reply, to speak, to hear his voice against Dante's and how similar they can be, but he's wading through thick mud, waist-deep, while the world moves quickly around him. He gets the inexplicable urge to ask for a hug. His tongue is too heavy, or maybe the words are coming to mind too fast to catch.

"Oh! I got you somethin'." Dante bends and gets a gift bag that was, apparently, at his feet the whole time. It's plain, a brown paper bag with white paper flaps. What's inside is miles more interesting. Dante takes out a thick book with an indigo cover and swirling gold patterns at the corners. The title is in Italian. The White Hare, it says.

This book, Vergil recognizes. Father made them read it. Maybe to brush up on their Italian, maybe to get them thinking about its morals. Over the months it took them to finish it, he regularly asked for their opinion on different passages. How could Vergil not remember the only book Dante finished in an endeavor to finish it before him?

This might not be the actual copy they grew up with (that one was destroyed in the fire), but it's the same novel, and that's all that matters.

"I asked the folks here and they said you could keep it! Isn't that cool?"

"Yes," Vergil said. He really wanted to smile. His face was hard to move.

Dante smiled wide enough for both of them. "Would you like me to read a couple of pages?"

Vergil nodded.

Dante's tongue was made for Italian. A lilting, rhyming language that flows quickly. It is a second language, and they are both rusty, and Vergil cares not one bit. He can listen to the cadence of his brother's voice and not worry why he cannot absorb half the words. It is perfect. Maybe Dante knew this was better than a one-sided conversation. Always so emotionally perceptive.

Vergil wanted to close his eyes and soak it in, but he did not want to miss a morsel of the image Dante made.

The visit ends all too soon. A nurse he might know comes wearing baby-blue scrubs and a sympathetic smile, telling Dante it's time for Vergil to rest. Rest in his room that doesn't lock, with windows that don't open, with walls that have heard too much, and a number on its door. Even though this room is different and staged, he perfers it over his bedroom.

Dante's contradictory expression returns: teary eyes and wide smile. He rises and his chair makes a siift sound as it drags on the carpet, and the nurse's presence is so loud, even if she's silent, and it's all happening too fast.

Dante lays a gentle palm on his shoulder for a moment, there and gone too soon, too soon. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"

Don't leave, please, Vergil screams in his head. Don't leave me here alone. He's scrambling, he's hurrying to hold onto Dante, but his movements are tar-slow.

Between one blink and the next, Dante has turned his back, leather jacket shifting as he walks to the open double-doors, his familliar shape getting smaller and smaller. But when he's six paces away, he stops and looks over his shoulder.

Vergil can barely breathe, gasping a too-quick breath.

Vergil's heart jumped to his throat. He darted to the well, faster than his legs could carry him, grasped the back of Dante's shirt, and pulled.

They fell on the ground in a heap. All the air was knocked out of Vergil's chest. He lay there panting in the adrenaline crash as Dante clambered to his feet and huffed, indignant, "What was that for?!"

"You're welcome, idiot."

"For what?! Making me eat dirt for no reason?!"

Vergil stared at him. He sat up and sputtered, "No reason—you were falling into the well!"

Dante's eyebrow quirked. "No, I wasn't!"

Fed up, Vergil shot to his feet. "Oh, yes, you were in total control as you tipped over into the abyss."

Now both his eyebrows climbed to his hairline. Quieter, he said, "I wasn't tipping over—I didn't even move."

"'Thank you, Vergil. You saved my life, Vergil.' Is that so hard to say?"

Dante scoffed and started the walk home. "You need your eyes checked."

For a moment, faced with Dante's unwavering certainty, Vergil doubted himself. Was it a trick of the light? Or did he imagine something that wasn't there? Did he worry so much about his brother falling that he tricked his own eyes?

The uncertainty was a white rabbit that beat a rapid tap on his chest. Vergil didn't understand what had happened, but he was always bad at letting uncertainties go, and he refused to let this one do the same. He will catch that rabbit and squeeze answers out of it.

He grabbed Dante's shoulder and unceremoniously turned him around, ignoring his yelp and clutching both his shoulders, staring him in the eye until he stopped struggling and cursing, calming down like a spent wind-up toy as his eyebrows slowly raised. Vergil was scaring Dante with the gravity of his expression; he could tell. In any other matter, he would be smug. This was a matter of the certainty of his eyes, of his mind.

"Dante. Don't mess with me. Were you falling into that well?"

Dante's expression was adult-like. Vergil watched it dawn on him how serious Vergil was—how scared he was. Dante uttered a quiet, sobering, "No."

Dante wasn't the one falling into a well of darkness. It was Vergil's mind.

Vergil tore his hands away as if he had touched fire. He couldn't meet Dante's eyes, so he turned his back to him, but that only served to put the stone well into view. His throat closed at the sight of it.

"Let's go home," Vergil spit out.

Dante swallowed audibly. "Yeah."

They went back the way they came, their footsteps crunching on leaves. Rabbits darted here and there in the bushes, and they didn't chase them.

Keyed up as he was, Vergil almost jumped when Dante's hand poked his shoulder. Dante was smiling too widely, his eyes slightly scared, voice too cheery as he broke into a sprint and yelled over his shoulder, "Last one home is a rotten egg!"

Dante was pretending they were fine. That everything was fine, and this was another normal day of racing home.

"Not fair!" Vergil followed hot on his tail, his lips breaking into a smile of their own accord.

Vergil could pretend.

Dante's face shutters with something like worry and panic and pain. He turns and crosses the room to Vergil in three strides, launching into his chest and hugging him tight. Vergil's spine is knocked painfully into the chair, but he doesn't care. He lifts a heavy arm and curves it around his brother's back, grasps his shirt in a tight fist.

"You'll be okay, right?" Dante breathes into his shoulder, frantic and hushed, sounding on the verge of tears. "You'll call when you can, right? You'll be all right and I'll come get you and we'll walk out together, yeah?"

Vergil's eyes burn. He remembers two little boys stumbling upon a well in a forest, making a discovery that changed Vergil's perception of himself forever, something they barely understood—and then they went home, together. One day, he'll walk out of here with Dante and they'll go home again.

"Yeah," he croaks. He clears his throat, concentrates, and musters his most self-assured tone, the one his old self would have used when his brain was a thesaurus and not a ratty pocket dictionary for children. "Yes. I'll be fine. Stop sniveling."

Dante laughs. It's watery and choked and beautifully genuine. Vergil is tired of pretending everything is normal. He cherishes how true his brother is.

There was once a man with fair hair and a blank face. Vergil Sparda had little to worry about; he had a late mother and a late father, sure, but he also had a brother. All of his worries and all of his fears were shared by his brother. Between the two of them, the fears were a white rabbit darting between forest trees, and together they chased it, like innocent children.

[questions-within-questions]

Spent my morning watching all the poker scenes in Star Trek Next Generation, and I've come to a conclusion.

Riker is cheating.

Okay so usually the point of these scenes is that once all the cards have been delt everyone has four cards visible and one hidden, and Riker has four visible cards that makes it look like he might have a flush or a straight (5 cards of the same suit, or 5 cards in numerical order) and the table has a debate about if Riker is bluffing about what the secret card he's had since the begining is.

That in itself is fine, the issue is that Riker always plays as if he knows he's going to be delt those cards.

The thing about a straight or a flush is that until you draw that final card your hand is worth nothing. You can't have a straight and a pair, you can't have a flush and a pair. If you chase a flush or a straight and you are delt a card that doesn't fit it, the entire table will see it and know that they can eat you alive.

So early on in the draw when everyone has less cards Riker should be playing conservative.

But he doesn't. He always starts raising the stakes way too early, and never folds when chasing, even when other people have visible winning hands like three of a kind or two pairs.

Riker consistently plays as if he knows what cards he is going to be dealt, even when he starts off with garbage he plays as if he's going to be dealt a hand that's going to allow him to bluff at having a straight or a flush.

That man has at least four cards stuffed under that beard.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

tablet died right when i finished that wanda doodle but i still wanna doodle what if i ended it all

[vaguely-concerned]

the scene where you talk to davrin in his room while he whittles tiny models of monsters (while assan watches with rapt attention <3 there is nothing about this whole setup, man or griffon, that isn't adorable) when your rook IS one of the dainty little academic mage types he so besmirches and you consistently pick the purple options through the conversation -- I am SCREECHING the covert jock/nerd war rages on between clenched teeth and forced jollity, they are doing this on purpose, bioware really have given me this gift all nicely wrapped and lovingly crafted! rook is so fucking bitchy and passive aggressive in these purple options (and once or twice davrin doesn't seem to realize it/takes what they say at face value); it's not very nice of them but it is hilarious. also I must say that hearing these two just relentlessly neg each other with palpable tension of. SOME kind thick in the air* for five minutes straight and then walking away and seeing the 'davrin approves' pop up at the end gets close to the otherwise unapproachable gaming high that is having a tense standoff with sten in origins and seeing +7 affection as you leave. davrin clearly is going 'good talk man nice to see you stand up for yourself more, I respect the roast game' while my rook walks away with a forced smile and clenched fists like 'okay so that wasn't very mature of me I'll admit it but god why is this guy such an asshole'

I cannot imagine how this conversation must play out with a character more on davrin's wavelength because for my setup here this was *chef's kiss* perfect. ideal. I'm so glad this dynamic exists it's one of the funniest and most characterization-enriching things that could have happened to me

*there's some insanity going on here where like... I don't think either of them like want to fuck, they're not actually attracted to each other, but they both would fuck each other in a 'go fuck yourself'/'fuck me yourself you coward'/'fine I will see if I don't!!!!'/'oh yeah??? do it then!!!!!' kind of way. the vibes are indescribable and unhinged on both of their parts.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the funniest thing about even is that they concluded that being loved was not worth the price and picked out someone specifically who they believed would not form an attachment to them, giving them the security of knowing how this relationship would work, only for the master to. get attached to them.

[mikuyuuss]

EVERYWHERE I GO I KEEP SEEING TAYLOR SWIFT OR WILD SWIFTIE, SUDDENLY IM JUMPSCARED TO MORE OF MY FRIENDS AND MOOTS REVEALING THEMSELVES TO BE A WILD TAYLOR SWIFT STAN ENOUGH I CANT STAND THIS ENDEMIC ANYMORE

[teaboot]

Yeah Mr. Darcy’s proposal was a complete turd and a half but you gotta understand. You got your life together. A good career, stable income, retirement plan, all that shit together. And you meet this girl. And she’s everything. Clever, outspoken, funny, calls you on your bullshit. Grade A cutie, right? And she doesn’t go out of her way to spend time with you but she’s nice, and sometimes you catch her looking your way in a way that makes you think you might have a shot.

But her family. Holy shit.

First off, it’s p much ALL women, and mostly UNMARRIED women, which at this time means of something happens to her dad then you’re financially responsible for like. Four grown ass adults, potentially forever

Because mom in law is DEFINITELY gonna need someone to take care of her when dad in law kicks it, and they have like. NO money. So already you’re accepting that if all goes well, you’re gonna be one random old bag’s retirement home. That’s expensive and exhausting, yeah? Imagine asking someone on a first date knowing that if they say yes and things go good her high-strung chihuahua mother is gonna move in with you. IMAGINE.

And girly’s other sisters. Well, one is a sweetheart, yeah, so she probably won’t be an issue, but that still leaves three more, and two of those ones are INSUFFERABLE. Never went to school, dumb as rocks, spend cash like it’s toilet paper

And while one of the two is young still and might grow out of it the OTHER one is actively torpedo’ing her entire family’s reputation by wandering off with random dudes and chasing ass. She’s never gonna work, she can’t build connections, she’s a fucking sinkhole, and she’s being led on by the same goddamn con man ass leeching tit who’s been bleeding you dry while telling anyone who’ll listen that your family is full of ratty thieving bastards.

And if he dumps her after a week- WHICH YOU KNOW HIS BITCH ASS IS GONNA- you’ve got a SECOND UNMARRIABLE GROWN ASS ADULT TO PROVIDE FOR. And you KNOW she’s gonna be a tantrum-throwing little shit about it, and it’s not like you can lock her in the basement or something, you’re gonna have to bring her fucking. Everywhere. And give her an allowance and shit while she contributes zero, because again, she NEVER GOT EDUCATED AND HAS NO MARKETABLE SKILLS. She’s not even good to TALK to. FUCK

And you’re looking at this girl’s father like “please for the love of fuck get your spawn under control, marry them off, get them working on their résumé, learning to sew or be nursemaids or manage staff or SOMETHING, yall got no money and one foot in the grave” and that old man just laughs like “haha yeah, what can you do. lol”

So you’re looking to the mom and finally it’s making sense how she got that twitch in her eye and as MUCH as she is you’re starting to realize she’s the SMART one, desperately throwing her armloads of girls at random men like they’re a bunch of fucking lifeboats bobbing around a sinking ship, like yes Jesus Christ sweetly that life boat IS old and ugly and kind of boring but for FUCKS SAKE PICK ONE

And you look back at this girl who is ALSO REFUSING THE LIFE BOATS BY THE WAY and god damn it she’s still the most radiant thing you’ve ever seen so fine, fuck it, Christ alive, you’ll do it. You’ll shoot your shot. She’s everything you’ve ever wanted in anybody abut it’s not even just about that anymore, it’s about being her best fucking shot at a future, and even if she doesn’t like you all that much she’s still gonna say yes and that might break your heart a bit knowing it’s about the money but who knows, maybe it will at least be civil, or companionable, and even if she doesn’t LOVE you at least you’ll know she’s well and cared for

And so you’ll do it. You’ll take on the neurotic stress mess mother in law, the absent father, the broke ass wingnut no brain no money no future airhead sisters, the bad mannered relatives and the embarrassing behaviour and the impending future of sharing your entire shit with a clown parade of freeloaders, you’ll risk it all and accept the absolute certainty of financial ruin and emotional exhaustion for the rest of your whole ass life and you’ll make your own family deal with it too, you’ll do it, you’ll fucking DO IT, you stupid lovesick motherfucker

And so you go to this chick like “look. Your whole family’s a shitshow. You’ve got fucking nothing and you’re gonna die on the street. But for some reason- and I don’t get it either- I’ve fallen in love with you, and I wish I didn’t, but I did, so I’m telling you that whether you like me or not, I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you everything even if it’s the dumbest shit I ever done. Fuck my stupid Baka ass, I’ll marry you.”

And she looks at you- having heard or considered absolutely none of your months-long internal debate and monologue- and goes ���The fuck did you just say about my family, you son of a bitch?”

And the shock of that is enough to jolt you back into a reality where you are able to actually hear and process what just came out of your damn mouth And yeah

Yeah, I think I kinda get it

[deathsmallcaps]

For the record, goat milk can totally taste like cow milk if you have spoiled goats. My old job’s goats used to eat more scrubby stuff, and as we improved their nutrition AND they were offered more choice plants and less rough feeds, their milk was *chef’s kiss* perfection. I would’ve drank it anyway, but even the boss lady, who was not that into it, started enjoying it in the end.

found goat milk and wheat ale at the store. theres no way im NOT making a white gilgamesh tonite

[kkusuka]

pt. 2

your roommate was a strange man.

can you even really call him a roommate if he's only home for one week every few months? but when he is home, simon riley is a pretty good roommate.

he fixes the heater that's been broken for two months, he replaces the faucet after it drenches you for turning it on too quick, he even takes a look at your car when you mention how your breaks have been squeaking. but other than his penchant for whiskey and the color black, you really don't know much about the man you've been living with for more than a year.

he's in the military, you know that for sure. he works with a team because he tells you that you have a striking resemblance to a man names "soap"? you take that as a compliment even if he didn't really mean it to be one. he wears combat boots even when he's off, you buy him a pair for his birthday that he doesn't take off until soles wear out. but all of these are merely observations, you don't actually know anything about him.

and it's not like you don't try to find out more things about him. you search his name on google- nothing. you ask him about his social media- 'don't got any'. you never ask about family because he never brings them up. all you have is a phone number and the license plate on his beat up dodge charger.

so, getting a call in the middle of the night, three months after you'd last seen simon, about a mission taking a bad turn and simon taking a bullet for an american private. all you really manage to catch after that was the hospital's address and a room number to ask for.

you feel like you're in a trance as you pack yourself an overnight bag, then move to simon's room and just start grabbing the softest clothes you can find and a bunch of snacks from his side of the pantry, then you're off.

you didn't want to see desperate or overly worried about a man whose favorite song you don't know but you're pushing into the high 90s on your way down. and your mind isn't clear until you're standing in front of a tired looking nurse in sanrio scrubs.

"um, i need to get into room 1206?" you barely choke the words out before she's getting up to lead you, "oh! mrs. riley, they told me you were on your way."

"oh-i'm, well" and if you hadn't watch so many hospital shows where they don't let anyone but family into the room you would have just told her the truth, but you just shut your mouth, give her a tight smile, and follow her down the hallway.

the room doesn’t take long to get to, but the door is shut and you can hear the people inside talking. but the nurse doesn't even hesitate to swing the door wide open, "mr. riley, your wife is here."

and then there are four sets of eyes trained on you, but all you can look at is the hulking figure of your roommate sat up in his comically small hospital bed. and all you can muster up is a slight smile and a small wave in his direction before the bags you're holding fly straight onto the floor.

"oh, shoot- i'm sorry. i didn't know if you needed anything so i just grabbed some things from your dresser- and some of those granola bars you like, and there should be a gatorade somewhere in there. and, oh my god, i'm sorry, how are you? i came as soon as they called, and they said you got shot, and-"

"calm down, sweetheart, or yer gonna be the one that needs a hospital bed." ok, simon could still speak that was good, and he was conscious and remembered you.

"i'm sorry. i just got worried, and-" simon knew you well enough to know that you'll worry yourself to death if he lets you keep going, "nothin' to worry about, sweetheart, pull up a chair, you've 'ad stressful few hours."

you practically fell back into the chair that the man with the kindest brown eyes you've ever seen pushed towards you. and for the first time since you arrived, you took a deep, long breath. hand clasped in your lap as you take simon in.

"feeling any better, mrs. riley?"

"she's fine, garrick." 

'garrick' seems utterly unphased by your roommate's- husband's? you can address that later- tone and just continues to smile at you.

"c'mon simon, we just wannae ken 'bout the bonnie lass yer hidin' from yer pals. ye 'aven't even introduced us." you're glad the scot waited until you'd calmed down to start speaking because it took you at least 30 seconds to realize he was even talking about you.

"sweetheart these are the boys, boys this is sweetheart, now fuck off before you scare 'er away"

they didn’t seem like they were going to leave until the older man practically dragged them out saying something about the heaping loads of paperwork they had to do. so will a little wave and a cheeky smile, they were gone.

"so, um, ho-how are you feeling? they, uh, said that you got shot?"

" 'm fine, sweetheart, better knowing i've got a bird at home who'll come runnin' cause she thinks 'm hurt, yeah wife?"

yeah, maybe you'll let the mrs. riley thing go on for a little bit longer.

idk i just really like the idea of simon just picking someone random and being like 'yeah this is it, you're mine now' and they have literally no idea

[nochepsicodelica]

"Really?" Toji asks, nudging your shoulder to wake you up, when he gets a good look at your back turned to him. His voice is slightly raspy with sleep, low in volume from its lack of use.

"Mm..." you hum in response, eyes shut as you try to ease back into slumber. You're in a curled position, your limbs wrapped around one of your extra pillows.

"Really?" Toji repeats, pawing at your shoulder, again.

"Yes, Toji," you say, quietly, not understanding what he's talking about, but agreeing just so that you can get back to sleep.

"Be serious, ma. Really?"

"What?" You ask, your tone somewhat laced with irritation, now.

It goes quiet for a few seconds, and then out of nowhere you hear the sheets rustling and the bed feels lighter. You're thinking there's no way he's so upset that he's leaving the room to sleep on the couch. He's the one who seemingly didn't want to cuddle, so you made do with what you had and grabbed a pillow.

You're snapped out of your attempt to go back to sleep when you feel your pillow trying to be yanked out of your arms.

"Let go of it," Toji mutters.

"What-" you grunt as you pull back and attempt to keep the pillow in your grasp. "What are you doing? Get back in bed, Toji." You hold on as tight as you can to the pillow that is slowly being torn out of your hands. "You're not gonna like when I let go and you're flung towards the wall."

"And you're not gonna like the punishment you earn if that happens. Let go of the pillow. Now."

You stare Toji down, holding your own against him. You know this isn't all of his strength and that he can easily rip the pillow out of your clutches, if he really wanted to, but like a dog with something it shouldn't have in its mouth, you're unwilling to do what he says.

"Listen up, doll, if you don't let go in the next five seconds, you're in for it."

"You're the one who pushed me away."

"Five."

"I need to hug something to sleep comfortably."

"Four."

"It's a pillow, Toji," you say, incredulously.

"Three."

"You're gonna take away my source of comfort?"

"Two."

"Toji."

"One. Let go."

"Oh my god," you groan, irritatedly. "Fine." You release the pillow, allowing Toji to take it away. You watch in disbelief as he throws it at the door so you can't get it without leaving the bed. You huff and scoot as close as you comfortably can to your end of the bed without falling off, before he returns to his side.

"Geeet back here." An arm is thrown over your waist, dragging you closer towards the center of the bed, until your back meets his front and his legs are tangled with yours. "Where are you going, huh? Still chasing after that pillow?"

"All of a sudden you wanna be close to me?" You scoff, in disbelief.

"So much attitude," he murmurs. His hand goes under your shirt, gliding up your warm skin to rest on your tummy. "Need me to give it to you all seven days, now?"

"No," you grumble.

"Well, that's what it's sounding like, to me." A kiss is planted on your shoulder. "Fix that tone, mama."

"You're so unfair. You're the one who didn't want to be held, but as soon as you noticed that I wasn't holding you, you took away my source of comfort. What did you want me to do, Toji?"

"I didn't even push you away, I rolled away in my sleep. It doesn't count."

You just hum in response, no longer in the mood to bicker about something so trivial when you could be working on getting back to sleep. A few seconds of silence go by, a spark of tension formed due to your lack of words.

"Ma?" He calls, barely pinching your soft, warm skin.

You sigh, blinking your eyes open. "What?"

"You mad?" His hand flattens on your tummy, rubbing slowly, as he waits for you to respond.

"No," you say, quiet and icy, even in its subtlety.

"That's a lie," Toji says, chuckling. "Come on, doll. What's got you all hot?"

It's hard not to melt into his touch. The kisses he presses to your shoulder only add on to the difficulty.

"Doesn't matter," you say, still trying to remain stoic.

"Yeah, it does. Now, tell me," he insists. "You're really gonna make me beg at almost two in the morning?"

"I was sleeping, and you woke me up 'cause you were butthurt over me hugging a pillow. There. Does that satisfy you?" You respond, and Toji has the audacity to laugh. You want to laugh too, but your stubbornness and pride will not easily allow you to.

"Poor baby," he coos, a mocking lilt to his tone. "You wanna tell me how to make it better?"

"You're an ass," you bite, no sharpness in your tone whatsoever.

"Ooh, I can hear that pout. You want a kiss? 'Cause I can give you one," he whispers, in your ear.

"Shut up," you mumble, trying not to give away the curling of your lips.

"You want a baby in here?" He asks, gently pressing into your stomach with his index finger.

"No! What?" You say, your giggles finally beginning to surface.

"Gotcha. Made you laugh," he says, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. He presses a kiss to the area before squeezing you in his arms, tight enough to make you groan until he eases up. "Now, tell me how to make it better. Come on, ma. It's not good to go to sleep mad."

You sigh, not wanting to argue with this annoying, yet, charming man, anymore. "Just help me get back to sleep," you mumble.

"Oh, I can do that," he says, a low chuckle homing into your ears. His hand lifts your shirt up more, aiming to get more access to your chest.

"Not like that, you perv!" You chide, pinning his hand on your mid-center. "Can you do that thing you always do?" You guide his hand down, until it rests just above your navel. He knows what you mean, and if this is what it takes for you to not be mad at him, he'll do it.

"You're like a baby that needs to be soothed to sleep," Toji murmurs, as he begins caressing your tummy, drawing little shapes on your skin that fuel your tiredness.

You huff out a laugh. "Acting like you don't drool and snore the second I start playing with your hair when you lay your head on my chest."

[mina-org]

“You don’t know fuck” Simon say pushing the bouquet away and you with it.

“Simon can’t we just try? We’re practically already dating” you say, a little more desperate this time, hanging on every word, hoping they’d turn sweet but they never do.

“Darlin im just here cause ya jump on me when I see ya, dirty slag, what about when im deployed? Ya jump on any fuckin thing” he practically spits out.

Tears sting at your eyes, you thought you were getting somewhere with him but Simon’s affection’s aren’t for you, not to keep, hes made that clear time after time. Yet here you are clutching on to the evening primrose, as he laughs you out the room. Why the fuck would he want flowers? Why would he want you?

You bolt out of his apartment, or his bedroom anyway, disheveled and panties discarded on his bedroom floor as you tug on the locked front door.

Great

You’d have to go back, tears streaming down your face.

God this was a shit show.

“Alright doll?” A gruff voice interrupts your prayers for the ground to swallow you up.

Great now you have an audience of Simon’s roommates, the older guy talking while the other two gawk at you like your some sort of freak show.

“Just leaving.” You choke out, staring at the floor like a child caught and shamed for bed wetting. His eyes are heavy as they weigh you down before he unlocks the door, muttering out a sorry on Simon’s behalf.

“Don’t cry lass, Simon likes ya, just not used to it.” Johnny says, he’s always been friendly to you, in passing of course, you were in their flat for Simon, and Simon only and it wasn’t your conversational skills. Johnny did hope Simon hadn’t fucked it with you, the walls were so fine having you about was like girlfriend asmr and he had cancelled his patreon subscriptions.

You awkwardly shuffle out. Vowing you’d never go back to that flat again or have anything to do with them, blocking Simon and changing gyms, now you’d never have to see him again.

buttttt when Johnny messages to check in on you, you can’t help but respond, the Scotsman didn’t do anything wrong and it was so sweet for to check on you. Maybe it would’ve been different if you knew every text was being planned by the four men, but you’re just too pretty when you cry.

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five- six

[jaylaxies]

A REUNION TO REMEMBER

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, cunnilingus, public sex, car sex, shower sex, squirting, lots of kissing, slight jealousy, slight degradation (slut) and praising, mentions of drinking, mentions of jay and karina (aespa), and other idols, mentions of nicknames (baby, princess, kitten), more to be added.

WORD COUNT: 15.3k words.

SYNOPSIS: You last met Park Sunghoon when you were attending high school, more precisely, when he had gained enough courage to ask you out, not knowing that the most popular girl of the school was already taken by the senior who was equally as popular. Four years later, your batch decided to hold a reunion back in your town, where you meet Sunghoon again. Only, the problem is that he's hotter than ever and you can't, for the life of you, keep your eyes off him.

PLAYLIST: here!

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, angels! i’m done revamping the hoon fic, i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

“There’s absolutely no fucking way he didn’t know!” 

You exclaimed, frustration clear on your face, recalling how things went down back in tenth grade to prove your point. 

Karina only sighed on the other end of the call, “listen, babe, I love you but you have to take into account how oblivious the poor boy was back then! He studied and skated, that’s literally all he did, that was him,” she spoke, emphasizing on the but part.

You huffed, sitting down on the edge of your bed, nodding to yourself slowly as you let it sink that her point was actually a valid one for once. 

“It’s still awkward though,” you mumbled, playing with a loose thread of your sweater. 

“It’ll be fine, okay? It’s been four years, and it’s not like you have to talk to him.” Her words were true yet again, and this is why you loved her. 

Karina had been your best friend since you were in middle school, she’d always been honest and the social butterfly everyone loved, but at the same time, she was humble and kind, always taking care of the ones around her, not to mention how she was possibly the prettiest girl you’d ever met. 

You were relieved to know that she would be with you for the school reunion—an event which was planned thoroughly, it was a big deal. 

It wasn’t just a meet up, it was a three day trip back to your hometown, the whole itinerary was planned, as per the usual ritual:

The first day being the reunion dinner night—the most important one out of the three days, a day where everyone shows up clad in their best outfits, a day where they flaunt every bit of success and achievements they’ve accomplished. 

The second being the beach day, to make sure no one is left out on the fun factor, also 

The last being the night out at the newest club of your city, a night to let loose, especially when it concerns rekindling the old flames (happens more often than not).

The idea itself was thrilling, not to mention how desperately you needed this break, Karina was even quicker to express her excitement by booking two hotel rooms, non refundable at that, for you both as your parents now lived in Seoul, and not in your hometown. 

Another sigh left your mouth as you plopped down on your bed, staring at the ceiling while wondering why you even bothered to check the guest list, to check whether Park Sunghoon was invited or not. 

It was no surprise when you saw his name in the list, gulping as you recalled the embarrassing incident which took place between you both, the one in which you never got the opportunity to confront him, or explain yourself by any means. 

You closed your eyes, revisiting the ever so embarrassing memory. 

It was the last day of the tenth grade, your exams had just gotten over and the student crowd was elated, throwing notes everywhere to celebrate the fact that they were not chained to their textbooks anymore, not for a month at least; which caused you to scrunch your nose at the sight of paper wastage, not to mention, the meaningless litter all over. 

“Uh—Hey,” a sweet voice called your name at the exact second, succeeding in grabbing your attention. 

You recognized him as your classmate, Sunghoon, who was also a good friend of your own friend, Jay. 

“Hey! Hoon, right?” You smiled at him, a slight red colour spread on his cheeks at the sight of you. 

He nodded, also politely saying ‘hello’ to Karina, who was right next to you before his gaze fell to his fingers as he fiddled with them, his fang-like teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip with anxiety as he worked on mustering enough courage to look into your eyes, only to find your own ones staring at him with curiosity. 

“I just—I wanted to ask if you’d like to, you know, go out with me sometime?” He let out the question, unsure of what words he had used and cringing at how shaky his tone was. 

He had completely forgotten what he practiced in front of the mirror a thousand times, but he knows for sure that the result was not supposed to come out as horrendous as this one. 

Your eyes widened as you looked at Karina with pleading eyes, asking for help. It was no secret that you were one of the popular girls at your school; sweet, hardworking, and humble. 

Getting a confession such as this one was nothing new to you, declining politely always worked, however, that was when you were single and not in a relationship with the most popular guy in the school (as cliché as it was), who was also your senior. It was almost like a fanfiction with how the ace of the school, Lee Heeseung, had ended up falling for you. 

The news was quick to spread, fast enough for your group chat to go crazy, asking you questions so diabolical which almost made you throw your phone away with embarrassment. 

In the span of three days, the whole school was aware of the new ‘it couple’. Except for Sunghoon, that is.

“As, uh, friends?” You winced at how pathetic your question was, which certainly made things ten times more awkward than they were supposed to be.  

“N—no, as something more?” Sunghoon helpfully explained, looking everywhere but at your face now. 

“Sunghoon,” Karina spoke up, causing  you to release your breath, thankful that she was here to control the situation when you could say nothing and feel uncomfortable looking at his disappointed face.

“She’s taken, love! Sorry,” she informed him, his eyes widening and mouth agape. 

You wondered if he was genuinely clueless about this, he did look lost to you. 

You gasped, suddenly feeling an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you stared at Heeseung in surprise, who was already looking down at you with a smirk. 

“Hey, baby. I missed you,” he spoke up, kissing you right on the mouth, more exaggerated than usual. 

Sunghoon witnessed the whole scene, a frown settling on his face, embarrassment clear on his face which was now red and showed clear signs of sadness as he softly said, “e—excuse me,” leaving as soon the words left his mouth, shoulders slumped. 

You never met him again, only seeing him with Jay at times. 

He was quick to change his school soon after it, knowing that he’d be able to do so easily since the finals were over. 

You were going to meet him now. 

Your eyes snapped open at the thought of that, you just wished for the trip to be a pleasant one. Furthermore, from your side, you’d make sure to not be awkward around him, pretending as if the whole situation didn’t happen in the first place.

 If you’d even get to talk to him, that is. 

“Wow, you really are dumb,” Jake laughed uncontrollably once Jay finished telling him the story of none other than Park Sunghoon. 

“Shut up,” Hoon mumbled, annoyed that the topic which he had wanted so desperately to be buried in the corner of his heart forever was brought up, once again. 

“Wait, but if you knew about them dating then why didn’t you tell Hoon?” Jake pointed the question towards Jay. 

“Because he never told me he was going to confess in the first place!” Jay’s eyes widened almost comically as he exclaimed, “and it was exam time, finals at that, Sunghoon had sworn he wouldn’t use his phone till the exams ended, and you probably don’t have any clue as to how big of a nerd he was—” 

“Jay! Fucking stop this,” Hoon whined, covering his face with his palm as Jay took out his phone, scrolling to find a picture of Sunghoon. 

He looked a lot smaller than he is now, wearing a yellow, collared t-shirt and round specs, lips curved into a small smile as he looked into the camera. 

“Holy fuck! You could have been easily casted for the live action of Doraemon, as Nobita, of course.” Jake high-fived Jay after taking a look at the picture, the latter almost falling down with the laugh he had let out, the similarities were uncanny. 

“The fuck—Nobita? Oh god this is so fucking annoying, can you guys shut up now? I don’t even want to go and face her ever again,” he snapped, whining like a kid right after. 

He had been overthinking about everything that could happen once you meet him again, his brain running at the speed of light with the unless possibilities. 

Would you laugh in his face and remind him of how stupid he looked asking someone like you out?

Heck, would you even remember him? 

You honestly didn’t have any reason to.

Acting nonchalant didn’t help his case one bit, his self awareness higher than ever, especially when it concerned you. 

It mattered to him a lot more than he’d like to admit, your opinion mattered more than he’d like to admit, even after all this while. 

A four year gap should have been enough to let his embarrassment fade away, however, all his efforts went to vain once he got invited to the reunion.

“Listen, it’ll be okay. She probably doesn’t even remember you!” Jay tried to make him feel better. 

“That’s very consoling, that totally calms me down, thank you very much,” Hoon rolled his eyes, wondering if you’d forgotten him already. It wasn’t as if you both had been close, but you did see each around and during the classes. 

He can’t lie, the thought made him sad. 

“You definitely have a chance now though, if that makes you feel any better,” Jake let out slowly, noticing the glow up Sunghoon had after comparing him with his old picture. 

“Shut up, It doesn’t matter, I don’t even like her anymore,” he mumbled, a light blush creeping up his neck as he did so. 

Jake and Jay exchanged a knowing look, putting on a smile as they dragged Sunghoon for shopping while Jay went on talking about what all they should be packing for the three day trip, bringing a genuine smile to Hoon’s face as he looked at his goofy best friends. 

Maybe the trip wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. 

“Ay babe! You look hot,” Karina winked at you, eyeing you up and down while you glided your lipstick along the expanse of your lips, smacking them together a few times to spread it evenly. 

You winked back, “you look hotter.” She laughed just as you said that, engulfing you in a hug. 

“Ready to leave?” She asked, getting her luggage out as you followed with a nod, smiling while you got into the cab, Karina being quick to snap a few selfies to mark the start of your trip. 

The entire time on your way to your destination, you felt giddy, wondering how everyone looked now, how their life must have changed, did they even remember you, would they even recognize you? 

It had been a while since you had last met them and you secretly hoped that you’d get a chance to get laid—your frustrated mind needed this, the studies kept you busy and you hadn’t got time to tend to your personal needs. 

Your mind was full of scenarios as you imagined how your stay would go, what all activities you’d do and so on, falling asleep on the plane while envisioning the same. 

“Wake up, sleepy head,” Karina shook your arm slightly, waking you up from your dreamland. 

It took you a second to realize that the plane was going to land, followed by the announcement of the same and you were still sleepy when you put on your belt, eyes barely open as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand. 

The journey was short, and you were checked into your hotel room in no time. As soon as you jumped on the bed, Karina came into your room holding a bunch of skincare products and sheet masks. 

“Get up! We need that glow for tonight,” she demanded, plopping on the bed with you as she ushered you to go and wash your face while you mumbled complaints with the need to sleep more. 

Skincare was therapeutic for you, however, it also made you sleepy, even more so when the hotel beds were the absolute definition of comfort and pleasure, helping you slip into dreamland in no time. 

Your skin felt radiant, so lovingly soft by the time you woke up, also checking the time so see that you had to start getting ready for the reunion dinner at once for you to reach there in time. 

“No! You’re not wearing that,” Karina pointed at your trouser outfit, a pathetic scowl on her face, looking at the clothes in disapproval. 

“Why not?” You asked, looking at it with genuine confusion. It did seem like a decent outfit to you. 

“Because we have to show everyone that you’re still the it girl you were four years back, now hotter than ever,” she mumbled, looking into your luggage as you let her take the matter into her hands, your focus now on styling your hair. 

“This!” She exclaimed, getting a dress out which made your eyes sparkle. It was a new dress which you hadn’t gotten a chance to wear before, and she was right, it’s the perfect opportunity for you all to dress up a little. 

“Huh? I don’t remember keeping this in my bag,” you looked at her. 

“Well obviously, I did,” she flipped her hair, proud of herself. 

That was it, the music was blasting, the room was a mess with the makeup sprawled all around, also little articles of clothing as you both dolled yourself up. 

“Ready?” She smiled. She looked stunning  in that black dress of hers, her freshly coloured hair only added to her beauty. 

“Ready,” you confirmed. 

“Y/n!” You heard your name, and suddenly you felt warm hands around your body, pulling you into a friendly hug. 

Sweet voice and strawberry scent was enough for you to know it was Isa. A big smile spread on your face as you hugged her tighter, looking around to see all of your classmates hugging and talking to each other. 

“You look so pretty!” You were in awe, seeing her gummy smile and the pink dress she sported, she was no less than a princess. 

“Girl look at you? You’re glowing! You literally grow prettier each day,” she giggled, making your heart melt. She had always been kind and bubbly, another one of the reasons why you were so close to her. 

You looked around the restaurant, it was new and the interior was modern, booked for the night for your batchmates. Meeting everyone was like a breath of fresh air. 

You didn’t even manage to say hello to everyone before they announced the start of the dinner, asking everyone to take seats, however, one of your old friends Jay was quick to reach to you, his smile as sharp as you remembered it to be. 

“As stunning as ever,” he complimented you, hugging your side. 

He stood tall in front of you, sporting a scent that gave you the essence of richness which only complemented his black suit, worn with a white button up inside, a gold chain dangling down his slender neck, resting well on his clavicle. 

You can’t deny, he looked handsome. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, “you look chic as always too.”

A sly smile graced his face, “do I now?” He chuckled, “come on, let’s go and sit,” he said. 

You nodded, following him as you noticed that almost everyone had taken seats, Karina waving at you, pointing at the seat she saved, which you gladly took, fixing your dress while you did so as you started rambling about everyone you met till now. 

What you had failed to notice, however, was the person sitting right next to you—someone who had visibly stiffened with your sudden appearance. He didn’t move an inch, not until you finally turned your head to look his way. 

Your breath hitched, and you prayed that it wasn’t visible how your eyes widened by just a fraction, your mouth stayed agape, and your body frozen, all at the mere sight of Park Sunghoon. 

Glow up would be an understatement, he looked like a completely different person without his specs and baby fat resting on his cheek. 

His eyes were the perfect shade of chestnut brown colour, it was the first time you had looked into them so clearly, face sculpted with a sharp jawline and pointed nose, lips naturally shaded into a glossy reddish hue, his fangs peeking out by a midge, and hair parted to the side, styled accordingly to match his black button up. 

“Hey,” a deep voice snapped you out of your observation session and you realized that it was him. 

“Sunghoon, hey. It’s been a while,” you smiled at him softly, hoping that he didn’t notice you staring at him just a second back, mentally slapping yourself for reacting that way. 

Meanwhile the boy was surprised to learn that you indeed did remember him, his heart beating a little faster now that he was in such a close proximity with you. 

It was something he had ran through his mind a few times—the possibility of you both running into each other, the possibility that you’d care to remember him, the possibility that you would talk to him, however, now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty, absolutely no coherent thought graced his mind. 

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered mindlessly, mouth opening again as he realized what he had said out loud, “uh—how have you been?” He quickly asked, mentally slapping himself for being such a mess. 

That only made you smile further, a glint in your eyes as you replied, “thank you, Hoon. You look really handsome too.” You let out almost in a whispered breath, and you did mean it. 

Your words made him smile, which displayed his fangs. Everything about him intrigued you all of a sudden, his presence affecting you in a way you didn’t think it would, your curiosity higher than ever. 

Before you could talk more, the servers came out, bringing the starters as everyone chatted excitedly at your table, Karina pulling you to her side rather abruptly as you yelped while she whispered in your ear. 

“Is that him? Fucking hell, Y/n, you couldn’t say yes then but it’s not too late—just four years, do it now!” She rushed to speak into your ear, making sure no one else heard it but you. 

“Karina shut up, I just met him,” you whispered urgently with wide eyes to warn her.

“So? You have three whole days to be with him! And to be honest, he looks like he knows how to give a girl a real good fuck—” you covered her mouth, not letting her finish the sentence. 

“Oh lord! I’m not going to do that!” You exclaimed, taking a bite of your soup, mood uplifting at the scrumptious taste. 

“But why?” She was almost going to whine before Sunghoon called out your name, saving you from this conversation. 

The sound of him pronouncing your name was rather attractive, especially the way he enunciated it so perfectly, your face heating up with the sudden conversation. 

“Yes?” You asked too quickly. 

He chuckled softly and you swore your name had never sounded any better. 

Maybe you were too into studying all this while that even the littlest things made you jumpy. 

Or maybe it was the hottest looking man sitting right next to you. 

“Could you pass me that napkin, please?” He asked politely. 

You were quick to grab one for him as you nodded, not trusting your voice any further, his slender fingers brushed against yours as he took the napkin from you, saying thank you softly, the slight touch of his cold hands made you shiver. 

You needed a distraction before you’d make fun of yourself, and soon, you found one.

Yeonjun, who sat right in front of you, was successful in distracting you, asking about your life in Seoul and about what you’ve been studying.

He was also a student like you, although he liked to work as a model in his free time, “it pays well and you get free clothes too!” He explained with a goofy smile. 

You felt content, loving how friendly the atmosphere was as if you guys never lost touch in the first place, everyone drinking champagne to celebrate with a cheer that you join in too, maybe this is why people hype up reunions. 

Sunghoon was attentive to everything you had said till now, not wanting to eavesdrop yet way too curious to learn more about you, trying his best not to stare at you every few minutes. Your smile made his lips curve into one as well, unconsciously at that. 

The dinner concluded soon, everyone getting up and gathering for a round of group pictures. 

Sunghoon’s hand brushed against yours in the process, succeeding in giving you goosebumps again, which he didn’t fail to observe this time. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, noticing your goosebumps. 

You didn’t have any better explanation, and you couldn’t possibly tell him that he was one responsible for it. 

“Oh—yeah, a bit,” you answered, looking at the height difference between you both, his body looked buff underneath his shirt, his veins visible now that he had rolled his sleeves up. 

“Here,” he offered his blazer to you, gently wrapping it around your frame as you could feel yourself being overdosed with his scent—it was attractive, engulfing you as a whole. 

“I—thank you.” Your cheeks felt hot as you looked away, trying to control your breathing. 

Sunghoon was clearly pleased to see you in his clothes, he had seen you after a solid four years and yet, his opinion about you didn’t change in the slightest, you looked perfect to him. 

You both reached the group, you trying to tiptoe more as to ensure your visibility in the picture. It was hard to fit such a big group into a frame, especially when people simply couldn’t stand straight out of pure excitement, posing with silly expressions. 

“Y/n! Come here,” Karina called your name, pulling you close for another set of pictures with everyone. 

“Listen guys! Tomorrow we’ll meet at the beach by twelve, make sure you reach there on time!” Hyunjin announced. 

You loved beaches, the sunlight made the water shine like it hid the prettiest set of diamonds in there, the smell of land and water meeting was soothing to your senses, a place so calming, you could spend hours there just staring at the beauty of nature, just to see the sky switching it’s colours from hues of blue to deepest of the orange to the darkest shade of black. 

It all made beaches beautiful and you were excited about tomorrow already. 

As you made your way out of the restaurant, you noticed two other people waiting for you along with your best friend, Jay and Sunghoon. 

“You’re here! We’re taking a cab together to our hotel, apparently they’re staying over at the same place as ours,” she explained, “they probably have their rooms in front of ours too!” She joked. 

Sunghoon looked at you in his blazer, deciding that he won’t even ask you to give it back to him, it suited you too much. 

His clothes suited you way too much. 

He wanted to spend more time with you, he wanted to sit next to you in the cab and he made sure to sit in between you and Jay, his side pressed against yours. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked softly. 

“Oh, yeah. Are you?” 

He nodded, loving the arrangement so far. Living in the same hotel meant that he’d get to see more of you while Jay sniggered, causing Sunghoon to elbow him as he let out an ‘ouch’. Opening his mouth to ask you questions now. 

“So, Y/n, how’s it going with uni? Do you have a boyfriend or someone special in your life?” Jay asked, knowing that his friend was dying to know the same. 

“It’s honestly so hectic but somehow still manageable, I like what I’m doing and I won’t be leaving without that degree so, yes I feel like the hard work would pay in the end,” you explained confidently, “and no, I sadly do not have a boyfriend. It’s honestly hard to go on dates when you barely have time for yourself.”

Sadly you had said yet Sunghoon couldn’t have been happier with your answer. 

You’d always been hard working and Sunghoon admires that about you, his focus was solely on you ever since you stepped inside the restaurant and talked to him. It wasn’t easy for Sunghoon to fall for someone, but once he saw you again, it was as if his feelings for you had never left. 

Just then, the car swiftly came to a stop, jerking forward slightly as Sunghoon quickly put his arm around your waist, pulling your body into him, securing it. 

Some car had successfully jumped the red light, almost causing an accident, but thankfully you guys were all safe and without any scratch as the driver was quick to use the brakes, before driving again, making sure everything goes smoothly now. 

“You okay?” He asked, whispering as he cupped your cheeks. 

You nodded, unconsciously shifting closer to him and he didn’t make any efforts to move his hand away, letting it rest on your waist while your head rested against his shoulder. You were hyper aware of the proximity but the scare was enough for you to not pay attention to it. 

It felt comfortable, his scent, his touch, but more than that, it felt genuine, which is why you closed your eyes, sleeping on his shoulder while his breathing hitched, looking at your sleeping figure. 

So pretty, he thought, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear, letting his fingers linger there for a while. It felt like a dream to Sunghoon, and he wished that he could get more of this — more of you. 

The comfort and your warmth seemingly got to him as well, his head resting on yours as he drifted off to dreamland with a slight smile ghosting on his lips. 

“Cute! So fucking cute what the fuck?” 

“They look like a couple, woah.” 

A series of flashes was quick to disturb your sleep, eyelids slowly opening to see two phones being shoved into your face, clicking pictures of you, the chatter coming from the very same pair of people. 

Just then, you realized that the picture in question was not just of you, but of the guy who so gladly let you sleep on his shoulder. 

Your eyes widened when he blinked open his eyes too, Karina and Jay laughing at his reaction when he saw you staring at him, face inches away from yours. 

His eyes widened comically before he diverted his attention to Jay, slapping his hand away who was busy shooting all of this on his phone, even the cab driver watched it with a fond smile on his face. 

“You guys are adorable,” Karina squealed when you got out of the cab, rushing to get back to your room, cheeks heated and heart racing. 

Were you embarrassed? Yes. But not even a single cell in your body can deny that it felt good—being close to someone. 

“Can you stop pairing us as if we’re school kids?” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes at her excitement. 

“Absolutely not, it’s fun.” She shrugged, joining you in the lift, “oh, and by the way, nice blazer you’ve got on,” she smiled, continuing to tease you. 

Right, you had to return the blazer to Hoon. 

Turns out, Karina was borderline prophetic and both of them were indeed on the same floor as you, your room right in front of Sunghoon’s room as if universe was hinting at something. 

“Good night guys,” she sang, leaving for her room, a smirk on her face as she subtly pointed at Sunghoon’s room. 

Jay followed suit, leaving for his own room, not forgetting to send a wink your way, which the other boy noticed with a frown on his face. 

Your outstretched hand got his attention, his blazer now in your hand, “thank you so much for giving me your blazer, Hoon,” you spoke up.

His nickname comes out of your mouth seamlessly, making him smile. 

“You can keep it with yourself,” he started, causing you to tilt your head in a questioning manner, “in case you feel cold again, y’know?”

“Yeah? What if I want you to be the one who keeps me warm if I feel cold tomorrow?” You looked into his eyes, testing the waters to ensure if he was actually confident enough to handle you now. 

“I—Yes I can keep you warm,” he stuttered. 

“Y’know we won’t be needing the blazer then,” he answered a second after overcoming the initial shock of you saying that, stepping closer to you. 

“Perfect. Good night then, Hoon,” you spoke sweetly, a playful smirk on your face, your own heart racing at the exchange. 

However, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist the second you turned around, spinning you so you stood right in front of him, hands on his chest to support yourself as your eyes widened at his bold move. 

“Good night, love,” he whispered, his finger tracing your jaw, before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on the apple of your cheek, a teasing smile on his face before he walked two steps back, his bottom lip bitten to conceal his smirk as he got into his room.

Your fingers instantly touched the place where he had kissed you. The small display of affection earlier had left you restless and desperate for more, wondering how his lips would feel against the expanse of your skin. 

“God, Sunghoon,” you whispered to yourself, eyes closing as you realized;

You wanted more. 

“Fuck—oh lord! Faster, please,” you whined, as his fingers pressed against your cunt, rubbing your soft folds in an agonizingly slow pace, his lips planting hot open-mouthed kisses down the valley of your chest. 

“You like that, huh?” He asked, mumbling against your skin, biting and sucking on your hardened nipples harshly, doing it enough to imprint marks on your body. 

The pain was more pleasurable than you could have ever thought of. 

“So fucking much,” you hummed, fingers grabbing onto his roots, tugging his hair slightly. 

You cried out of pleasure when he inserted two of his fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out before he came to whisper against your lips. 

“Bet you’ve been dreaming about this—about me,” he smirked. 

A moan left your mouth, which he swallowed by kissing you right away, taking all your lewd noises in. 

“Don’t you, kitten?” He asked against your mouth, his fingers leading you to your orgasm, the nickname only acting as a catalyst to the high of your pleasure. 

All until your alarm rang and your eyes snapped open, a gasp leaving your mouth as you sat up straight in a go, once you came to the realization that it was just a dream. 

A wet dream. 

About Park Sunghoon. 

“Oh god, oh my fucking god, no way,” you groaned, hiding your face into the blanket, pussy tingling with the dream you had a few seconds back, mostly due to how realistic it was. 

You had no other option but to hop into the shower and lean against the shower wall, your fingers inching down to play with your soaked folds, rubbing your clit in gentle circles as your phone played a sensual song from your playlist, remembering how Hoon touched you in your dream. 

You moaned, shoving two fingers in, curling them inside you with a desperate moan, a moan of Sunghoon’s name, as you bit your lip to conceal your lewd noises, you thrusted your digits with need, till you made a mess on your fingers, breathing hard as you struggled to stand straight. 

You looked into the mirror, breathless, realizing just how pathetic your condition was, even more so when you had made yourself cum by thinking of Park Sunghoon. 

You wondered how you were ever going to face him after this. 

Especially when you had a beach day ahead and the possibility of seeing Hoon shirtless would be high. 

Ignoring the fact that you had a wet dream about the man sitting in front of you during breakfast was a tough thing to do, yet you managed it well. 

He looked like a prince even in casual clothes and he knew how to make you go crazy by just a wink of his, even giving you the doughnut in his plate, which you wanted so dearly. 

His appearance was innocent, unlike last night where he was in a black button up—hot and attractive beyond words, he left you speechless. 

“Are we renting a bike or not?” You asked Karina with a smirk after you were done eating. 

“I’m down,” she gave you a high-five, “I don’t know about the boys though.”

“Wait, you can ride bikes?” Jay asked, impressed. 

“Of course, we can, Jay,” You answered proudly. 

“Take us on rides then,” he said, brow raised at the offer. 

“Sure, select your rider, we’ll go to the beach on the bike then,” you smiled.

By the time you got ready in shorts and a top, which you wore on your bikini set, the sun had come up and was shining brightly. You had your bag packed with all essentials and two sets of extra clothes because you never know when you’re at the beach, not to mention how much sunscreen you had used to protect your skin. 

All four of you got into the lift, and you noticed how you and Karina were wearing the same colours, while the boys were in shorts and t-shirts. 

“Who’s coming with me then?” She asked, showing her bike keys. 

“I am,” Jay spoke up, as if it was their plan to leave you with Sunghoon, alone at that. 

You bit your lip, closing your eyes for a second before turning to look at Hoon, “you’re stuck with me then.”

“Perfect,” he smirked, following you out. 

“Wear this,” you passed him the helmet, which he put on. 

But your gaze went on his arm, which flexed as he fixed his helmet, the short sleeved t-shirt did nothing to hide his muscles. 

You were surely not gonna survive this day. 

“Let’s go,” he smiled, snapping you out of your daydream. 

“You ready?” A smirk settled on your face as you checked the rear view mirror, looking at Sunghoon, who was quick to send a nod back. 

What he didn’t expect was that you’d speed up the second you start the bike, making him jerk forward and hold on to your waist, making you shiver slightly before you began your journey of a total of ten minutes, the beach being close to your hotel. 

“Woah, fuck!” You heard the boy say from behind, making you smile as you zoomed past the cars and other vehicles. 

“Hold on tight,” you screamed against the wind, loving the light breeze caressing your skin, and Sunghoon’s body pressed against yours. 

His arms tightened around you with your command, and your mind wandered to the morning when you dreamt about him. 

It did feel good, and you were certain you wanted more. 

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was looking around, enjoying the scenery, but most importantly, he was enjoying the time he got to spend with you — his old crush. He leaned in, taking in your scent, smiling at how you didn’t change your perfume still. 

He was highly attentive and observant when it came to you. 

A series of hooting was heard in the parking lot, where all of your gang was waiting for you four to arrive, thoroughly surprised to see you riding bikes. 

“That’s so fucking hot,” Yeonjun came over, wearing only beach shorts, abs on display as he saw you take off your helmet, the scene looked as if it came out of a movie. 

“Dang, Junnie, been working out?” you asked, focus now on him as you happily chatted and took his hand, which he offered with his charming smile, and walked towards the beach with everyone else. 

Sunghoon watched it all with his jaw clenched, Jay and Karina approaching him with a knowing expression on their faces. He wanted to spend time with you, and he didn’t expect anyone to steal you away from him so soon. 

He was pissed. 

“Maybe she’d notice you if you remove your SpongeBob t-shirt,” Jay adviced, keeping his elbow on his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong with SpongeBob?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“Oh god, what would you do without Jay, he’s right by the way. Also, do you have abs?” Karina asked, doing the same from his other side. 

“Uh huh—does it matter?” Hoon huffed, shrugging their hands off and walking further. 

“It does matter when you’re whipped and trying to impress a baddie!” Jay announced helpfully, making Hoon stop to slap his shoulder. 

“Stop shouting for fucks sake!” He warned. 

“You’ll never get her at this rate. Trust me, go shirtless and see the magic. Also, stop being a loser and move your ass, go and approach her before someone else does,” Jay said. 

Sunghoon simply looked around to ensure that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation, his friend embarrassed him enough and your best friend didn’t help either. Did he actually make it that obvious? He wondered. 

Seeing you laughing with Yeonjun did make him want to step up his game. 

“Guys! Get changed and then the ones who wanna enjoy the water are free to do that, while those who wish to do water sports, gather around that area,” Taehyun announced, pointing at a shed area meant for the registration of water sports. 

You simply wanted to enjoy in the water, so you made your way towards the changing stalls, getting rid of your shorts and top to reveal your bikini, after which, you looked into the mirror to ensure your appearance was okay. 

“Love the bikini,” Isa complimented and you cooed at her one piece swimsuit. Everything she wore suited her perfectly. 

And Isa didn’t lie, a lot of heads turned to look at you once you were out, some silently admiring your beauty, for instance—Sunghoon, with his eyes fixated on you and your body. 

While others, like Yeonjun, didn’t hesitate to show how pleased they were by your entrance, whistling slowly, which flustered you slightly as you rolled your eyes at him, rushing to get under the beach umbrella, eyes darting away to look at Sunghoon, who was already staring at you. 

“See you in the water,” Karina left, running away with excitement clear on her face. 

That left you two alone under the umbrella. 

“You’re not going?” You asked Sunghoon, getting sunscreen out of your bag. 

“Just waiting for you,” he spoke smoothly, causing you to look at him. 

“Help me then?” You passed him the bottle of sunscreen, turning around with your bottom lip bitten. 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, he wanted to touch you in more ways than one. He squeezed out some sunscreen, his cold fingers touching your skin as he applied it on your shoulder with a gentle massage. 

His strong hands made you sigh with pleasure, head tilting to give him more access to your neck area, his fingers paying attention to each inch of your back, fingers digging into your inner shoulder with his breath fanning your neck. 

He took your name, almost as a whisper. 

“Yes, Hoon?” You looked back at him, only to find his face inches away from you. 

He came closer, looking into your eyes, “let’s go,” he smiled, heart racing from the proximity and he wasn’t sure how longer he could handle staying so close to you without even kissing you. 

“Race you to the water,” you screamed, running away with a smile so big, it naturally made the boy smile as he realized how much he wanted you. 

You were fast, but he was faster and his arms wrapped around your waist the second your feet touched the water. Soft giggles left your mouth as he turned you around and ran further, standing in the water with his arms open and a victorious smile graced his face. 

“That’s fucking cheating!” You pointed your finger at him, others laughing at your childish bickering as he defended himself with a serious expression, trying not to give in to your pout. 

“I don’t cheat,” he came close to say, pouting on his own. 

Before you could retort, he started splashing water all over your body, others joining soon and splashing water everywhere. 

“Hoon, what the—” You squealed, rushing to splash water back on him, only to trip and fall right into his arms, his hands firmly holding you close to him. 

“What? Falling for me already?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his face. 

“In your dreams,” you retorted. 

“You were,” he shrugged, confusing you yet again. 

“Where?” 

He hooked his finger and lifted your chin tenderly, making you look into his eyes, “in my dream, last night,” he whispered, leaning in closer, leaving you speechless. 

Sunghoon was the shy, nerdy kid who used to sit in the front of the class, always keeping to himself, talking to only Jay. 

Now, however, you couldn’t even recognize the guy in front of you. While you found the old Hoon to be cute, you wouldn’t lie when you say that the confidence he oozed now made you want to know him more. The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly, which made you wonder if he flirted with others too. 

It seemed as if he was on a roll to make you go speechless, and his plan was working. By the time you turned around to reply to him, you saw him swiftly remove his t-shirt. 

Your body stilled as your eyes traveled up and down his body, skin shining with the sunlight that complimented him perfectly. He was lean but muscular, muscles flexing as he took off his SpongeBob t-shirt, abs now on display for everyone to see. He looked flawless. 

Karina elbowed your side, eliciting a yelp out of you, “ow fuck—what?” You whisper yelled. 

“You’re drooling,” she pointed out, “get that man,” she tapped on your shoulder, pushing you towards him. 

However, when you observed some girl, who wasn’t a part of your group, coming close to Hoon while placing her hand on his bicep and asking if he was single, it made you want to run away and not witness the exchange of Sunghoon smirking at the other girl. 

Jealousy was a nasty disease, and sadly you were terminal. 

Naturally, you made your way out of the water, face hot as you fanned yourself walking towards the beach chairs under the umbrella, not knowing that the boy had no other job but to follow you, politely rejecting the other girl. 

You sat down, closing your eyes as you tried your hardest not to think about the dream you had earlier, your desire only fuelled when he flirted with you with that ever so stunning smirk of his. 

Seeing him shirtless was your last straw.

You needed alcohol in your system to survive this, to let yourself free. Sunghoon was already resting on the chair next to you by the time you opened your eyes again. 

“I’m hurt,” he started, looking your way. 

You raised your brows at his comment, “why? I thought you had company.” You took a sip of your drink, enjoying the bitter taste on your tongue and the slight warmth it brought to your throat. 

The statement was of immense pleasure to him, especially when he sensed the hint of (read: obvious) jealousy that your words radiated, and he just wished he wasn’t being delusional, his ego boosting alongside his confidence. 

Everyone was out of the water by now, the gang was done with their water sports activities as well, coming and sharing their experiences with a loud chatter, also talking about arranging a bonfire as the sky turned into the prettiest shades of yellow with orange and red hues. 

“I do have company,” he whispered, coming closer for you to hear, “a very pretty one at that.”

He took the beer bottle from your hand, taking a long sip of it, your eyes fixated on how his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped it down. 

You snatched your bottle from him, watching as two drops trailed down his chest and towards his abs. 

“Sorry, but you left your pretty company back in the water,” you huffed, smiling sarcastically before leaving to get a shower and change back into your shorts before the bonfire. 

Sunghoon held on to your wrist before you could escape, pulling you so your back was flesh against his chest, his lips on your ear, brushing it slightly, “you sound jealous, princess,” he teased. 

You turned to look at him, lips an inch away from his, your head tilting, “I don’t have a single reason to be jealous, Sunghoon,” you quipped. 

With that, you walked away, knowing well you were jealous when you had no right to be so. 

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was having the time of his life stealing your attention and having you to himself. Your reactions only encouraged him to do more, he wasn’t the one to flirt, however, he loved to get a reaction out of you. 

Being together for two days was enough for Sunghoon to realize that his feelings for you never faded, it only grew more after spending more time with you. He couldn’t hide the smile forming on his face as you denied being jealous, it gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d have a chance to win your heart. The fragrance of your body mist lingered around him because of the earlier proximity. 

He swore it was his new favourite scent. 

His eyes followed you, admiring your beauty from afar before he too went to get a shower and freshen up. 

“So, you and Sunghoon, huh?” Yeonjun asked, sitting down on the sand next to you. 

The shower did make you feel better, the cool breeze and the sunset creating a calming atmosphere, the bonfire in front of you only making it cozier. 

The question caught you off guard, resulting in an awkward cough from you, “what do you mean?” 

“Come on, anyone can notice the sexual tension between you two, or maybe I’m just observant,” he shrugged, “you can’t deny that he’s hot,” he pointed out helpfully. 

“I’m not denying anything, but I don’t think anything will happen between us,” you pouted, watching the man walk towards your group, drying his hair with a towel. 

A gesture so natural, but he made it seem so enthralling that you couldn’t help but stare. 

“So you do think he’s hot,” Yeonjun followed your gaze with a smirk. 

He wasn’t going to let this go, and you were sure of that, a groan leaving your mouth as you divert your attention towards him. 

“I’ll help you get his attention, although I think you’re doing pretty fine yourself,” he lowered his voice at the last few words as Sunghoon sat down next to you, passing you his charming smile. 

“Truth or dare,” Yeonjun asked you, starting to implement his plan, passing you another can of beer. 

Sunghoon looked at you with curiosity filled eyes, jaw clenched slightly as he noticed your closeness with Yeonjun, why is he always around you? 

“Uh—truth?” You asked more than answering. 

This also gained the attention of your group, everyone cheering to play a round of truth and dare just like the old times. 

“That’s boring,” he scrunched his nose, “how about I dare you to kiss or rather, makeout with someone in this circle?” 

“Yeah, absolutely not. I’m not playing,” you took a long sip of your beer, ignoring the series of disappointed grunts coming your way. 

“Why?” He whined, “I bet anyone would want a kiss from you,” he emphasized, looking around the circle dramatically before he swiped his tongue on his bottom lip. 

Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, eyes never leaving your face as he saw you disagree, a small smile on his face at your rejection. 

Oh boy, was he going crazy with his ever so often mood swings, only when it involved you. 

He also wondered if Yeonjun wanted that kiss for himself. 

“He’s right I mean, you are beautiful and oh god, I remember the number of proposals you used to get on Valentine’s day,” someone pointed out as a matter of fact. 

Seems like everyone was drunk already and the night had just started. 

That statement made Hoon go stiff as he remembered his own memory of confessing to you. 

“Oh, that reminds me of the time Sunghoon had come to ask you out,” Yunjin mentioned with a mischievous smile, as if everyone was on a mission to have you and Sunghoon in the spotlight. 

You closed your eyes, dreading the topic that was about to come up right in front of everyone, moreover, deep down you did wish to hear what Hoon had to say, after all these years.

The said guy groaned, hiding his face when the topic he so desperately wanted to avoid, came up out of nowhere, secretly hoping that you didn’t find him weird after remembering the same. 

“Sunghoon confessed?” 

“What? When did this happen?”

“Did you reject him?” 

A bunch of questions were thrown your way and you looked at Hoon with a panicked face, him doing the same, biting his cheek yet again and looking away in, well, rejection. 

“It was in high school, and that’s all we’re telling you,” you answered, dismissing the crowd. 

“So you can kiss him as your dare,” someone proudly suggested. 

He looked bothered and you frowned, “guys, no. Let’s not make him uncomfortable now, it should be consensual y’know,” you spoke gently and Yeonjun took the hint to change the conversation really quick, daring someone else to drink five shots in a go. 

If only you knew how much he yearned for it, yet he was sensible enough to not let it happen in front of an audience; batshit drunk and immature audience if he must say so. 

“Hey. Are you alright?” You kept your hand on his surprisingly warm ones. 

“You’re cold,” he frowned, intertwining his fingers with yours effortlessly and keeping them inside his jacket’s pocket, “I have to keep you warm, remember?” He said, still looking elsewhere as to hide the evident blush creeping up his face, not sure if it was due to the prior embarrassment or the newfound warmth of your body. 

He was nervous, trying his best to divert the topic and you let him, scooting closer to feel his warmth. 

“I really did not know you had a boyfriend back then,” he confessed with reddened cheeks, “I was just so fucking busy with exams and—”

“You don’t have to say anything, Hoon. I do understand and I’m sorry for what happened that day,” you tilted your head to look at him, blinking slowly as you finally felt your alcohol kicking in, “you’re pretty,” you whispered.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drank that much, knowing well you can’t handle, or anyone can handle you after you reach that level of drunk. 

Hoon was on his fourth can of beer already, his tolerance level not being too high, causing him to get drunk faster—it showed on his face. 

His heart hammered against his ribs when you whispered that to him, and he pulled you closer, “you’re the prettiest,” he mumbled, tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. 

Everyone seemed to be in their own worlds, laughing at random things, playing music and dancing, however, your drunk self wanted nothing more than to be with Sunghoon, to kiss him, and it took all of your self control to restrain yourself from doing so. 

Sunghoon pulled you closer and on his lap, your face buried in his chest and his arms wrapped around you. He wanted you more than ever and being drunk, he couldn’t help but pull you impossibly closer to him. 

His palm rested on the side of your waist, gentle caresses sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. It felt too 

Despite everything, you did admit how his presence made you feel warm inside, and it wasn’t solely because of alcohol. 

He bummed a song under his breath, you almost slept in his hold, his deep voice giving you butterflies. His embrace made you feel wanted, just like you had wanted him, and you indeed were in your own world, soon being disturbed by others saying it’s time to go back. 

Someone made you drink water, and soon, you were in a cab with your best friend next to you, Sunghoon on the other side and Jay riding shotgun. 

“Good night,” Karina sang out once you reached your hotel, Jay leaving soon after. 

“Come with me, I want to sleep with you,” you whined, no control over your mouth anymore, you took Sunghoon’s hand, pulling him into your room. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, closing the door behind him. 

“Fuck,” he muttered out, seeing you remove your denim shorts, leaving you in your t-shirt as you climbed on your bed. 

He followed, discarding his clothes and getting into the bed with you, a blanket covering your bodies. Your back was pressed against his muscular chest, his arm around your waist keeping you in place. 

A soft gasp left your mouth as you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his lips touching your skin, making it burn with warmth, ���Hoon,” you softly whined. 

“Yes, baby?” He continued placing open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

“Kiss me,” you breathed out. 

“Would you like that?”

“Yes, so much,” you confirmed. 

“I want to kiss you,” he confessed, “but not when we’re drunk. If you ask that of me tomorrow then I’ll do it without question.”

“No—right now,” you mumbled, whining. 

“Shh, sleep for me baby,” he said, distracting you with soft kisses on your shoulder again. 

“But—”

“Go on, princess, sleep, hm?” 

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you, “okay,” you said softly, admiring how beautiful the man was. 

You turned around to face him, “good night, Hoon,” your voice came out as a whisper. 

“Good night , princess.” You felt his lips on your forehead before you drifted off to dreamland. 

A dull ache in your head disturbed your precious sleep. Your eyes opened with a few blinks, settling down on Sunghoon, who laid next to you with his eyes capturing your each movement. You stiffened for a good second, remembering how hot his lips felt on your body the last night. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, hand on your head as the effects of hangover started to kick in. 

“Here,” he got up, passing you a bottle of water. 

“Hoon,” you started, not sure what to say about last night. 

“I’ll go,” he says, “I—I didn’t want to make things awkward between us,” he apologized, getting up quickly, putting his clothes on and leaving before you could say much. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, hating how the situation turned into what it shouldn’t have been, you wanted him, drunk and sober, in both states. 

But he didn’t know that. You were worried if he didn’t want that, or if his gestures were friendly all this time. 

His kisses weren’t friendly last night, your mind reminded you, and you let out a series of curses at that, at how desperately you had wanted him to be close to you, all this in a span of two days. 

Sunghoon was breathing hard by the time he locked his room, going straight in the shower.  He was frustrated. The hot water droplets paired with his flashbacks from the last night, the way you said his name in a whisper, the way your bikini fit you perfectly, and how you looked at him like you wanted him just as much as he did. 

He groaned, hand traveling down his skin to pump his semi hardened cock, gulping as images of you invaded his mind. With his head resting against the tiled wall, his fist moved on his length with speed, with need. 

He had never jerked off to the thought of anyone before you came into his life again, it was his first time and he admitted, he didn’t know that just the thought of your body pressed against his would make him this hard. 

With a moan escaping his lips, he painted the tiles white with his cum, your name leaving his lips as he stood there, breathing hard and deep in thought. 

He had to have you. 

Tonight. 

“We’ll go first,” you tell Karina, getting ready together for the last night — the club night. 

“Sure, but why?” she asked, trying to perfect her already perfect liner. 

“I don’t wish to face Sunghoon,” you mumbled, sitting down on the bed to wear your heels. 

She stopped her movements, turning to look at you, “I thought you guys hooked up last night, it was going well, wasn’t it?” She asked, confused. 

“I don’t know, babe. He didn’t do anything yesterday because we were drunk, which was very sweet of him, but then he left this morning without talking about it,” you explained. 

“So talk tonight, and maybe do more cause you don’t have much time left,” she reminded you, “maybe go with Yeonjun’s plan too, Hoon would definitely reach out to you once he sees you with him. I’ve seen that he doesn’t really like when Jun’s with you, it shows on his face.”

“Really?” You asked with a frown, “making him jealous sounds very high school core to me.”

“So what? It works!” She smiled, “and I’m ready, how do I look?” 

“Stunning, gorgeous, perfect,” you answered, “and I think I’ll take up your advice this time.”

She smirked, “let’s go and get you your man,” she said, coming close to you, getting a shade of lipstick out which suits you through and through, knowing well that it’s the perfect opportunity to use it. 

Flashy lights, loud music, drinks and dancing bodies everywhere. It was easy to spot Yeonjun on the DJ stage, vibing to the music feely. Life of the party as always. 

“Let’s grab some drinks,” Karina spoke in your ear, the music being too loud for you to hear much from a distance. 

You nodded, following her and smiling when you saw a few people from your batch standing there and drinking. 

“My ladies, you look hot,” Beomgyu said, kissing your knuckles and ordering drinks for you both. 

Seems like making Hoon jealous won’t be a problem after all, especially when everyone has a flirty nature. 

You weren’t going to drink today, you had to be sober and in your right mind, so you settled for orange juice instead, the music making you move on your own. 

“My lady!” Yeonjun spoke up, popping out of nowhere, pulling you into a hug before he came closer to whisper, “you look stunning,” his eyes shining as he said so, “but I don’t see lover boy, where’s he?” 

“Will be here soon I hope,” you replied. 

“Dance with me, he’ll definitely come sooner if he sees you with me,” he smirked as you took his hand, taking up on his offer. 

Yeonjun was a good company after all, your eyes widening at his bold moves before he pulled you in with a smirk, “lover boy’s here, and he’s looking at us,” he informed you, your eyes moving behind to look at him. 

Sunghoon was agitated, fuming almost with the sight in front of him. 

He wanted you all to himself, for tonight, tomorrow, and if possible by any means—forever, and he wasn’t going to shy away, not this time. 

“Are you just gonna stand and watch while he takes away your girl?” Jay asked from beside him. 

“Not today, not this time, Jay,” Hoon replied simply, his eyes following your actions, watching as Yeonjun took you to the bar, Gyu on the other side as you laughed about something you were talking about, whispering in each other’s ears. 

Sunghoon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he walked towards you. He didn’t wish to be nice all of a sudden, it was the last night, last possible chance for him to actually do something or regret sitting back forever. 

He stood right behind you at the bar, eyes fixated on your face, the shade of lipstick you had on suited you so perfectly that he wanted to ruin it by smashing his lips onto yours, turning you around in a single go and claiming you his. 

Instead, he tapped on your shoulder, successfully capturing your attention as you finally looked at him thoroughly — he was clad in black trousers, a loose black shirt with two top buttons kept open, his chest slightly on display. A delicate chain on his slender neck, hair parted to the side to match his look and his defined jaw clenched as he looked at you with a desire filled gaze.

His eyes held a different kind of intensity tonight, almost the kind you’d want to get lost in, his lips curved into an attractive smirk as he finally spoke. 

“May I steal you for a moment?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” you nodded mindlessly, gulping at how fine he looked. 

He didn’t wait for you to follow him, instead, he held on to your wrist and pulled you with him, your eyes widened at his bold move, your feet moving quicker to match his pace as he dragged you out from the back door, to an alleyway which was empty. 

“Sunghoon—” you called out his name, but he was quick to push you against the wall.

His eyes looked into yours, they were dark with a feeling you couldn’t quite understand before he leaned in, “remember what you said yesterday?” he asked, nose touching yours, frustration clear in his voice. 

“W—what?” Your voice came out shaky, his fingers on your arms were enough to make you shiver.

“Fuck, kitten. Forgot already?” He chuckled and you let out a shaky breath at how easily he called you such nicknames. 

“Forgot what?” You asked, looking into his hooded eyes. 

“That you wanted me to kiss you,” he leaned in further, his lips brushing against yours with his statement. 

“Yeah? And what about it?” you asked, trying to sound stern, as if your legs weren’t about to give out right this second. 

He scoffed, “I fucking bet you’d love it if Yeonjun would do that, won’t you?”

“I could be wrong, but I have a teeny tiny feeling that you are jealous, Hoon,” you replied, a small satisfactory smile on your face when you saw him scowl, your index finger resting on his clavicle. 

He tilted your head upwards, his slender fingers holding your chin up so you looked into his eyes, “fuck—yeah,” he breathed out, “yeah I am, because I fucking want you all to myself—” he confessed. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered midway his sentence, breaking your tough girl act and pulling him closer by his collar, your hand on his shoulder as you pressed your lips onto his. 

He was quick to react, pushing you against the wall harder while also pulling you closer by your ass, his other hand on your nape. His lips moved against yours in a perfect harmony, you felt your knees getting weaker as his soft lips kissed you with no intention of letting go—not now, not never. 

He separated your legs apart with his knees, pushing it in between them with ease, you pushed yourself further till you could feel his thigh in between your legs, applying pressure to your core which had you moaning into his mouth, almost to the point of drooling. 

“Fuck,” he cussed, separating your lips to place rushed kisses on your neck, your head tilting to give him space as you grinded on his thigh, head ringing with the high he gave you just with his kisses. 

“Ah—Hoon,” you whined, causing him to stop his actions, his slender fingers wrapping around your neck as he pulled you closer yet again, speaking against your lips. 

“I really thought I was over you after not meeting you for four fucking years, baby,” he almost growled, “but nah. I saw you at the party sitting next to me and I realized that I still want you, now more than ever,” he whispered, staring deep into your eyes. 

“I—I want you too, Hoon,” your voice came out breathy. 

He let out a low laugh at that, “you sure you don’t want Yeonjun?” 

He was jealous, he didn’t bother denying that and you admit you found this side of him hot, possessiveness clear in his eyes, which had turned even darker if it was possible. 

“His name wasn’t the one on my tongue when I touched myself last night, y’know,” you admitted, not missing the look of slight surprise on his face, “it was yours, only yours,” you tiptoed to whisper in his ear. 

A barely there smirk settled on your lips as you tried to leave, but Hoon was quick to pull you back, his hand on the back of your head as he pushed you against the wall yet again, and you loved how easily he handled you, as if your body moved the way he wanted it to. 

“You’ll be the death of me, kitten,” he said, “it makes me want to mark you up.”

“Why don’t you do it then?” you whispered, raising your brow as a challenge. 

He didn’t need to be told twice, his lips were on yours the very next second, your fingers tugging at his silky roots, sighing in exasperation with the wetness pooling in your underwear, your mind going fuzzy and your insides melting as you let him take control of you. 

He nips at your bottom lip, hand traveling down to cup your breasts, squeezing them lightly before he pinches your hardening nipples, your back arched into him as you feel a shiver going down your spine. 

Your short dress and its sheer fabric does nothing to help you, your skin feels as if it’s on fire with how passionately he kisses you, pulling you into him with desperation while pushing you back against the wall, your hand going under his shirt, tracing his faint abs softly. 

He knows it’s not even nearly appropriate to do this in public, but he can’t, for the life of him, stop his hands from roaming over the expanse of your body, from his fang-like canines to bite your clavicle and his eyes darkening from lust as he sees your body responding to him exactly how he wants to. 

“I won’t be able to stop myself anymore,” he grunted, taking your name.  

“Take me back to the hotel,” you breathed out, intertwining your fingers with his. 

He nodded fervently, hoping that his hard-on won’t be visible as he drags you through the sea of dancing bodies, biting his lip before you both get to the parking lot, getting into the car he had rented earlier. 

He tried his best to be a gentleman as he opened the car door for you, bending down to press another sloppy kiss on your lips, the atmosphere warm with how drunk he looked in your essence. 

It was hard for him to walk and get into the car himself, especially when you were right there, ready and just as desperate as him, your deep breaths only making him breathless. 

His hand rested on your thigh the whole fifteen minutes of the drive, inching upwards with docile squeezes which made you squirm in your seat, low whines leaving your mouth desperately. 

“Shh, baby. I’ll have to park the car right here if you keep making such sweet noises,” he warned. 

The offer was tempting—tempting enough for you to let out a moan, to which he did what he had to. He swiftly took a turn, parking the car at the empty lane, switching the engine off before he unbuckled his seatbelt. 

He turned your way, lips on yours as he unbuckled your belt too, a gasp leaving your lips as he effortlessly pulled you to his lap. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” His thumb traced your lip, which you parted looking up at him with innocent eyes to suck on two of his digits, swirling your tongue around it, your cheeks hollow as you took it in. You could feel his hardened length just under your clothed cunt, which made you move your hips slightly, just to get a reaction out of him, testing the waters. 

However it backfired once he smirked against your lips, the warmth of his palm travelling up your body, resting on your clavicle as his fingers closed in around your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze before he thrusted up. 

You moaned, struggling to keep your eyes open.  

“I want you, please!” you begged, unbuckling his belt as he watched your every move. 

“I can’t believe I get to have you now,” he says. 

“What do you mean?” You stop to look at him, arms around his neck. 

He puts his arm around your waist, picking you up slightly to get rid of his pants and boxers, “you’re the only fucking person I’ve ever wanted,” he says, whispering your name right after, eyes on your dress strap which slid down your shoulder, “tell me what you want, baby.”

Every word he spoke, every sound he made, it all caused an influx of this feeling in your chest—your heart raced, butterflies erupting into a wild fashion as your face heated up with the depth of this situation. 

“You. All of you,” you answered in a beat, “I can’t wait anymore, I can’t stop thinking about you, Sunghoon,” you said. 

“You don’t have to,” he whispered, kissing a sensitive spot below your ear, “don’t fucking stop, kitten,” he mumbled as he licked your neck, his fingers pulling your panties to the side simultaneously, pressing them to your wetness. 

You held onto his shoulders as he rubbed your sensitive folds, his cock poking at your entrance alongside, “such pretty moans,” he groaned, feeling you being a mess in his arms, “all for me?” 

“All for y—you!” Your words came out in fragments, legs shaking as he pushed his fingers inside you, your back arching into him yet again. His lips were busy planting kisses all over your tits, ensuring not to leave a single spot, pushing your dress down to reveal every bit of you.  

Sunghoon was a patient person, but not when it came to you. You were driving him insane with just how vulnerable and needy you appeared to be in his arms, his eyes fixated on how your chest rose up and down, his own sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, your breaths intertwining as he plunged his fingers harder into you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, strong enough to leave crescent marks, the sound of your low moans, his grunted murmurs, and the deep breaths interfolded impeccably with the music playing on the radio, reverberating through the car. 

Once he felt like you were prepped enough, dripping on his fingers, he swiftly pulled you up, pressing his lips upon yours as he pushed you down on his cock, your walls clenching around his length, the stretch too pleasurable for it to hurt you. 

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, scrunching it up as to support yourself against his body, each touch of his igniting your senses. His muscles tensed beneath your touch as your hand unbuttoned his shirt, the cold of your hand juxtaposing the warmth radiating his body.

“You’re not real,” he mused, mesmerized, “so fucking pretty, taking my cock like that.” Sunghoon knew he was far gone when it concerned you, but now that you were actually here, closer to him than ever, he couldn’t help but let his mouth run loose to tell you just how stunning you were. 

“You’re mine tonight, huh?” 

“So—so fucking yours,” you moaned. 

He scoffed, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him, “say it, clearly.” 

“I’m so fucking yours Sunghoon,” you gasped, feeling him twitch hard inside of you. 

“That’s it, that’s my good little kitty,” he chuckled against your mouth, kissing your swollen lips yet again. 

You both muttered a string of curses before you started shifting your hips, his hands on your waist guiding you up and down, eyes closing but he was quick to grab your neck, “look at me when I fuck you,” he said, bucking his hips up to meet yours. 

He loved how you looked, hair messy, lips swollen and eyes slightly teary as you tried to form coherent sentences but failed miserably, all of which Sunghoon loved. 

You were just as gone for him as he was for you. 

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” He asked, taking your hand and pressing it to your lower abdomen where you could feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out effortlessly, given how wet you were, practically dripping all over his lap and the car seat, something that the rental company wouldn’t really appreciate but that was the least of your worries. 

“Gonna make you scream my name till the windows fog up with your desperation,” he rasped near your ear and you couldn’t function anymore, not when the hottest man ever had you spiralling for him.  

“Sunghoon, H—hoon!” Your voice got louder as you did exactly what he had promised you’d do, making him chuckle against your neck, nipping on the skin with the intentions of leaving marks, his marks, “slow, please!”

You were lying to yourself by now, you didn’t want him to be slow, you just weren’t sure how much you can take before you lose the final string of your sanity—if there’s any left, that is. 

“God,” Sunghoon mumbled, “slow? I’ll fuck you hard enough you’ll feel me in your cunt for days, kitten.”

“Fucking hell, I—I’m close,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulder. 

“Let go, baby,” he said, groaning as he felt your juices coating his dick, your moans louder than before, eyes closed and his name like a mantra on your lips. 

He grunted, rubbing your clit as he slid out of your pussy, stroking his cock until he spilled his cum all over your inner thigh. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he breathed out, “not so quick.” 

You were fucked, quite literally. He kissed you, once, twice, and again till he was moaning in your mouth, so dazed he could barely function for a minute when you tried catching your breath. 

He helped you get into your seat again, not even bothering to put his shirt on as he drove back, jaw clenched, your eyes on him the entire time, pussy tingling as his hand squeezed your thigh every two seconds. 

And he didn’t lie, his movements were more frantic than ever as he drove back to the hotel with record speed, making sure to stay and help you look presentable, the small touches of him all over your face made you feel an feeling which you couldn’t quite name, it was indescribable, but you knew it gave you butterflies. 

And you wondered how this guy who fucked you so roughly not even ten minutes back could also be this sweet and caring, kissing you every chance he got. 

You giggled as you ran into the elevator, a smile gracing his own face at your giddy mood, “I don’t want this night to end,” he confessed. 

“It won’t end just yet,” you said, taking out your room card and opening the door, which he closed equally soon as he pushed you against the wood. 

He looked perfect, swollen red lips, shirt barely buttoned, hair all over the place, and eyes so shiny as if he held a whole universe in them, or maybe that was just your reflection.��

“Kitten,” he sighed, “let me taste you,” he requested. 

You looked at him with teasing eyes, a smile of the same fashion gracing your face as you went on, unzipping your dress and moving towards your bed while facing Sunghoon, letting the dress fall along with your underwear, uncovering your bare body to him, as if offering the last morsel of meal to a hungry man. 

He unbuttoned his shirt, discarding all his garments. You could finally see him in light, his eyes hooded, body sculpted by the gods themselves, the v-line and his big cock making you gulp as you remembered how good he felt inside you. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered you, to which you obliged. 

“God, such a good little girl for me, spread your pretty legs and let me see you, baby,” he spoke, getting in between your legs, his chain dangling down. 

The nickname made you shiver, Park Sunghoon made you feel weak, in all the best ways, the way he kissed your thighs, inching closer to your inner thighs, so close to your core which was still wet, all of this made you breathless. 

A pathetic whine of Sunghoon’s name slipped past your lips the exact second he licked your pussy, his big hands keeping your legs open, “eyes on me,” he spoke against your wetness, humming at the taste. 

He wastes no time in immersing his tongue into your pussy, licking and sucking as you panted, thighs shaking, his tongue tracing your vulva, groans vibrating against your folds, your hips bucking up into his mouth as he delved deeper, pushing his tongue into you. 

Your soft folds made him growl, nuzzling closer. Nothing was enough, he couldn’t get enough of you, even the scent of your arousal had his cock twitching, it was harder than ever, almost painful at this point, his nose nuzzling deeper, brushing against your heat. 

“H—hoon,” you cried, a tear streaming down your face, your fingers tugging on his hair, which only urged him to growl more into your cunt. 

It was so raw, so filthy. 

You feel ecstatic as his thumb probes at your narrow depths, stimulating your clit while he pushes his tongue in, “want you so much,” he spoke against you. 

“Hoon! Please, can’t wait anymore,” you said, pussy swollen and you needed his cock inside you. 

“So needy, and for me?” He asked cockily. 

“Y—yes! Please,” you begged. 

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” He comes up, kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

His chain dangled around your collarbone, his intense gaze focused on your expressions as he pumped his cock a few times, his tip on your entrance. 

He spit into your mouth, diving right in to kiss and capture your moan.

He pushed himself in with a swift movement, bottoming out. He asked if you felt fine, giving you time to adjust, he moved in and out of you swiftly, body pressed against your warm one, his each thrust getting deeper with the roll of his hips. 

You could swear you had never felt this way before, he hit your g-spot so precisely, and the feeling of him being inside you, all raw and thick, made you mewl with pleasure. 

“You look so pretty,” he groaned, licking your neck where he had just marked you, “falling apart on my cock like that.”

Your toes curled each time he opened his mouth to whisper something filthy into your ear, making your head spin in a good way. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, your fucked out face, swollen lips and the innocent eyes begging him to go faster made it harder for him to hold back. He, in fact, didn't wish to hold back anymore.

He thrusted in harder, squeezing your tit as you cried out his name, your walls clenching around him, making his length twitch as his fingers dug into your ass, pulling you closer, your tits pressed against his chest, his eyes wild and desperate. 

“Can’t get enough of you, it’s like your body was made for me,” he smirked lazily, fangs showing as you told him how you can’t wait any longer, you can’t hold back any longer. 

He was just as desperate, not being able to hold his dick twitching in you with a need to release. 

“Cum in me!” You moaned out. 

That drove him over the edge. You filled with his cum? His warmth dripping out of your soft little cunt? Fuck, he could burst his load right into you but he needed you to be completely, truly okay with it. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” He asked, cupping your face, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, foreheads pressed as he breathed in deeply to control himself, just like you, a different kind of warmth spreading through your body. 

He had never done that before, neither had you, however, you wanted nothing more than to experience it for the first time and you wanted it with each other. 

You nodded, “yes—yes please,” before he pushed his cock harder, as you rutted your hips absentmindedly to ride out your high.

The room smelled like sex, the mist clouding it as your sounds resonated the walls, you didn’t even try to conceal your voices anymore, the dim lights only made the atmosphere hotter. 

“Oh, fuck!” He grunted. 

Your orgasm ripped through you as you pulled his nape closer for his lips to be on yours, his own climax rushing as you felt the warming sensation of Sunghoon’s cum filling your cunt up to the brim. 

You both stilled, taking deep breaths and coming down from your state of euphoria, gulping as you saw him looking right at you. 

“C’mere,” he said softly, getting up and watching his cum dripping down on your sheets, gulping as the tip of his ears getting red. 

You couldn’t get up, only looking up at Hoon with teary eyes, he swore you looked like a broken puppy to him, which only made him wanna scoop you up in his arms, his muscles flexing yet again as he held you up, kissing the corner of your eye, tasting the salty tear that escaped, courtesy of his cock which provided you with the best orgasm of your life. 

“Fuck—ah,” you whimpered, only boosting his ego.

You couldn’t walk, he made it happen. 

Which made it his duty to take care of you, biting down on his smile, he chuckled, making you groan and slap his shoulder, only causing him to laugh without hesitation this time, you swore it was the prettiest laugh ever. 

“You alright, love?” He asked, eyes shining as you nodded, both walking towards the bathroom.  

“God—don’t say that,” you mumbled, shyness creeping through. 

“What? My love?” He said again, smiling as he emphasized again. 

“Hoonie,” you warned and he only kissed you again, before you pushed him playfully, stepping into the shower, barely holding yourself up. 

“Need help, princess?” He asked, eyebrows raised as he stared at your body, and you gave him a look, almost surprised to see him getting hard again. 

Oh boy, was he crazy for you. 

“In the shower?” You raised your own brows. 

“Well, I fear if I was the one who filled you up with my cum, I should be the one to help you clean it,” he whispered, getting into the shower, closing the glass door behind him, sneaking his hand up your waist. 

“You’re crazy,” you said, looking up at him with a grin which you did try hard to conceal. 

“Hey, it also helps us save water,” he added, smile widening, before he leaned in, lips on your neck, as you felt the warmth of the water cascading down your bodies. 

“Missed this?” He asked, shoving his hand between your legs, “god, you’re so full of my cum,” he chuckled proudly as you shivered in his arms. 

Sunghoon wasn’t usually this confident, however, seeing you breathless, whimpering and asking for more even though he had just destroyed your cunt was doing something to him, he couldn’t help but admire the sight—something he’d never get used to. 

He was gonna get what he’s wanted all along, once wasn’t enough, even a thousand times won’t be enough, he wanted you for the course of his lifetime, eerily romantic thought for someone who was fucking the girl of his dreams in a shower. Lovely. 

You pulled him in for another rushed kiss, feeling him smirk against you, chasing your lips as you tried to move back in hopes of whining, but he was greedy enough to grab your nape, greedy enough to swallow all your moans, keeping it for himself. 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, fingers teasing your cunt, or what he’d like to say, cleaning your cunt which he so nastily claimed, “not clean enough, hm? I think we’ll have to use a deeper approach.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” you panted, his cock lining up against your wet cunt, and you could only look up at him. 

His hair sticking to his forehead, water droplets dripping down his face to your cheek, steam fogging up the glass door as you tried to keep yourself up on the slick tiled surface, his muscles flexing as his veiny hand held you up, his grunt loud as he pushed himself into you yet again tonight. 

His thrusts were languid as you tried your hardest to breathe, his head leaning down, with his mouth open, practically breathing you. 

“I fucked you so hard and yet you’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, “god—baby, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered. “So fucking good—fucking perfect—mine.”

“Yours,” you mewled out, eyes closing with each of his hard thrust. 

Lasting long wasn’t an option, not when you were this close to reaching euphoria, but it was different this time, and you feared what might happen if he went on like this. His cock was so thick, also the biggest you’d ever taken, to the point you could feel its bulge on your lower abdomen.  

“Can’t—can’t anymore,” you stuttered, legs shivering to the point your knees gave out and Hoon held you up with ease. 

“Doing so good for me baby, let go, hm? Be a good little slut for me,” he rasped. 

That tumbled you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you let out the loudest moan of Sunghoon’s name, thighs shaking as a jet of liquid gushed out of your quivering slit, surprising the boy who let out a groan, filling your cunt again as you squirting all over his cock, the sensation overwhelming you to the point your body almost fell limp in his arms, panting harshly as Sunghoon moaned. 

“Did you just—” 

“I didn’t—know I could,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his neck, embarrassment creeping through. 

He breathed in deeply, kissing you again, “that was the hottest fucking thing you could have done, baby” he mumbled against your lips, “you’re perfect, you did so well for me, you’re my good girl.”

Sunghoon barely held himself up, the way you reacted to him, the way you looked when you let yourself loose, it was going to be etched in his mind forever. 

It took you both a while to calm down again, and he kissed you all over to do so, soft pecks all over your face, making you smile lazily at his sudden cuteness. He made sure you were clean and helped you shower properly this time before coming out. 

Sunghoon was clingy, absolutely not having it in him to leave your side, observing every move of yours as if trying to memorize every bit of you, even making sure you’re clad in his shirt as you both made your way towards the bed, a soft glow gracing your faces.

“Hey,” he said, getting into the covers with you. 

“Hey,” you turned towards him, still feeling giddy. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he said, touching your cheeks softly. 

“Why would you say that?” You asked, keeping your hand on his. 

“Before tonight, I had only ever dreamed of being this close to you, I never thought I’d even get to kiss you,” he spoke. 

“Hoon, I’ve been thinking about you since we met again,” you told him, brushing his hair with your fingers softly, “actually, ever since I got the invite,” you confessed sheepishly. 

That made him smile, “can I ask you something?” 

You hummed, “yes?” 

“Can we, maybe, if you’re okay with it then y’know—” he fumbled with his words, making you laugh, even the slight lisp of his was so perfect. 

“Shh, we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Hold me to sleep, Hoonie,” you said, putting your arm around him. 

His heart melted at the sight, and what made him happier was the fact that you didn’t just want him for sex, your smile expressed it all. The thought of you actually liking him back, reciprocating his feelings made his heart beat faster, anticipating a future with you. 

“Good night, baby,” he kissed you, just like last night. However, he kissed your lips tonight, making you giggle softly as you held onto him tighter. 

He stared at you, not being able to hide his smile and wondering how he could ask you out again, especially when it would be easy for him to meet you since you both lived in Seoul. 

The trip was officially over, and you could proudly admit that you loved every second of it. 

Your flight was the same as Jay and Sunghoon’s, courtesy of you living in the same city, in which he couldn’t help but keep his eyes fixed on your seat. He appeared to be a pathetic puppy who couldn’t help but stare at his owner, gone to the point he picked the same movie to watch as you, talk about being a stalker in love. 

Jay was sitting next to Hoon and he desperately wished he could kick Jay out and ask you to be next to him but he managed to behave these few hours. He was happy as long as he could look at your pretty face. 

Both Jay and Karina screamed in shock when Sunghoon kissed you at the airport before leaving for their own apartments, he wasn’t shy about his, almost boasting in a way to show off how you were his, almost. 

A text popped up on your notification panel as soon as you reached your place, still smiling like a madman while answering all the questions Karina threw your way. 

Hoon <3: hey i was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime? 

You: as friends?

Hoon <3:  god, baby c’mon 

You: as friends? 🥺

Hoon <3: Y/N what if i kms 

You: as friends? 😁

Hoon <3:  okay, fine 😔 nooo, as something more :(

You: fuckk you’re so cute like a puppy

Hoon <3:  oh

You:  don’t tell me… you like being called that? 

Hoon <3: why don’t you try and say it then the next time i’m deep inside your cunt?

You:  oh fuck

Hoon <3: is that a yes baby?

You:  what if it is? 

Hoon <3: that’ll make me very very happy, princess 

You:  AHAAHDHSJ text me the date and time 😚

You smiled, loving how things had changed from the first time he asked you that question. 

It was indeed a reunion that you could never forget. 

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